The idea & the execution; our only communication left is the sentence (
but we struggle to work out what we're trying to say). We hold our
breath. And in between confusion sits and rests its head, draws a
line: two meanings for these words. So we sing: Our friends could be
so easily gone, families forgotten, loves cold in our arms, so quiet now.
But the slightest variations they can be enough, all in all. All in
all, the smallest things can be too much. We miss you all.