We laid on our favorite gingham blanket, side by side— With our fingers interlaced like a groom and bride’s. Our heads touched as we laughed under the postcard sky, Sharing memories and weaving one golden life… The world and sunshine seem to brim With endless possibilities and dreams undim. We were two sides of the same coin, synchronized; But somewhere along the way you flipped, a mask disguised. What was once a diamond set, now no longer sparkling; And I was left alone to spin, spiraling— Off the table and hitting the floor, thundering; Not able to get up, sundering. I’m running through thunder in no-man’s land, Trying to outrun the mines of your hands, Bleeding from the shots you fired, Getting cut up by the barbed wire, But trying not to weaken and falter— Even though I’m running through thunder... Upon the hills beyond our quaint country home, We were going to sow fields of wildflowers to roam; We would stand on the porch with me in your arms, And we would watch the blooms dance about our tiny farm. The laughter of the many mini us would mingle with the breeze In unison with the trilling of the birds from the old oak trees. A bright day turned dark, swiftly; Thunder clouds crawled from the horizon, darkly; Thunderstorms swirled in your eyes, dangerously; Fast and violent winds, beating relentlessly; The world came to a stop, quite suddenly; As the dizziness overcame, repetitively. I’m running through thunder in no-man’s land, Trying to outrun the mines of your hands, Bleeding from the shots you fired, Getting cut up by the barbed wire, But trying not to weaken and falter— Even though I’m running through thunder... I’m running through thunder in no-man’s land, Trying to outrun the mines of your hands, Bleeding from the shots you fired, Getting cut up by the barbed wire, But trying not to weaken and falter— Even though I’m running through thunder... Running through thunder, Running through thunder; I’m running through thunder; I’m running through thunder.
