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