[Intro - Acoustic Guitar Riff & Distant Radio Static] (A single acoustic guitar picking pattern begins, slow and steady) Yeah... Morning light on the kitchen floor. Before the world shattered. [Verse 1] Six-thirty AM, kettle whistles on the stove Twin shoes by the entryway, double-knot bo Her husband grabbing papers, coffee mug in his hand A history teacher trying to teach the youth of the land He calls out the door, "Boys, make sure you got your bags!" Two seven-year-old brothers playing tag with the tags Miriam smiles, wipes a spill off the counter Every single morning, same routine around her Kiss on the cheek for her lover at the frame Hugged both her sons, called 'em both by their name Watched them walk down the path, hand in three hands Simple morning in a city made of dust and red sand She closed up the wooden door, went back to the Sink Never knowing that’s the last time she’d see them or think... [Chorus] And now Miriam stands alone In the silence of an empty home No steps on the floor, no voice on the phone Just cold wind where the morning shone Yeah, the kitchen is quiet, the teacup is cold And a story untold... Miriam stands alone. [Verse 2] Eight-fifteen sharp, standard rhythm of the day Washing up the breakfast plates, humming far away Then the sky tore open—not a thunder from a cloud A roar from the heavens, heavy, hollow, and loud The dishes shook, glass shattered on the floor A shockwave rattled through the frame of the door She froze in the light, heart dropping to her feet Smoke rising up just three blocks down the street She ran to the window, turned the radio dial Static on the broadcast, silence for a while Then the news broke through, voice trembling and fast: "A strike on the district... a missile just passed..." A Tomahawk hit where the schoolhouse used to stand Her husband, her twin boys... gone from the land. [Chorus] And now Miriam stands alone In the silence of an empty home No steps on the floor, no voice on the phone Just cold wind where the morning shone Yeah, the kitchen is quiet, the teacup is cold And a story untold... Miriam stands alone. [Bridge] Then the screen turned on, and the suit took the stand From the Department of War in a distant, cold land No regret in his eyes, no apology made Just empty rhetoric and a bloodthirsty parade Gloating over targets, calling collateral a win Bragging 'bout power while she’s drowned in her sin No mercy, no sorrow for the blood on the floor Just threat after threat from the podium of war Her hands turned to fists, tears turning into fire Listening to the arrogance, the politics, the liar. [Verse 3] She doesn't hear the politics, she doesn't care for flags She sees two little backpacks and two lunch bags She sees a teacher's notebook lying burnt in the street And three missing hearts that will never beat They call it military precision from a sky so high While a mother looks up at a broken blue sky No room for forgiveness when there’s no room to grieve Just a house full of ghosts that will never leave. [Outro] (Guitar picking slows down, bass fades out, soft radio static returns) Three pairs of shoes left by the front door.. Nobody left to call out to any more. Miriam stands alone. (Fade out on single acoustic guitar strum)
