I finally understand why heaven is so hard to explain.
Because sometimes heaven is an exotic vacation
and some days it's a good book with English Tea looking out a window pane
And sometimes its simply finding the sand you tracked in on the kitchen floor as the unbelievable, marvelous reminder you have a key to my front door.

Black roses with a white sun
White knuckles, holding onto the gun

Ready to die, but wanting to live
How much more can I give up?

Sounds of bombs exploding
But I'm the only one who can hear it.

Am I dead?
No, it's only in my head.