Lack of sense.

Shards are raining down. Pouring.

There's nothing, but a frequent warning

From the very heavens. They're letting down a cry

To put out the fires in our lives.

Ground might tremble, shake and shout.

Wind might blow away our love.

However, men still stand and laugh

At all they've witnessed, gained and left.

The shards are still raining and somehow none, 

Not a single soul has noticed all the blood....