It's in all we are and all we've seen, it's in all the

Places that we have been in all we've heard and all of

The things we've done

It's when you don't ask, that you get to know and still

The unsaid hurts the most, it's in all we are and all

Of the things we've done

We are angels that have been cut off their wings, we

Are holy but no one really sees it

We are travellers, we are nomads with nowhere left to go