On a Bright Spring Morn

On a bright spring morn we all head the news and the air grew cold and clear. Oh his poor, poor girls. Such a lovely man. Never did no harm. There is no explaining it. No god round here. And if only for a while all is bright and clear. Is this really what it takes to wake us up? For soon we will forget. Until the next bright morn illuminates with honesty what we dare not see. And so we thank our friends who have gone before. We will see them again on a bright spring morn.