I know its an evil generation that seeks for a sign. But I’m not a generation, Lord. I’m one man asking to know if you’re still pleased. My sign doesn’t have to mimic the miracles from your heyday. I understand that was then and this, this is not then. I’m willing to take anything, anything except this boiling silence in the center of everything. I simply want it to be like it used to be. Remember? I could hear you in the wind then. But this, this is not then. Hearing you always gave me the courage to love. Remember?