The idea and the execution Our only communication left is the sentence But we struggle to work out what we're trying to say We hold our breath And in between confusion sits and rests its head Draws a line: two meanings for these words So we sing "Our friends could be so easily gone Families forgotten Love's cold in our arms" So quiet now But the slightest variations, they can be enough, all in all All in all, the smallest things can be too much We miss you all