"We're the lucky ones," he says to me,
As he takes my hand and leads me away,
But I can tell it's hard for him to say,
I look around franticly,
At all of the smoke billowing,

The air is still,
And the only thing I hear,
Is a low ringing in my ears,
I follow him closely, trying not to trip,
My heart feels like it's been ripped,

Once we're far away,
He turns to me and caresses my face,
Slowly, my hearing returns,
And I hear his words,
"We're the lucky ones."

There are sirens in the distance,
They've missed it,
I taste salt on my lips,
And realize I am crying,
My stomach feels like it's flying,

We stare towards the wreck,
The trucks arrive with medics,
Will there be anyone to save?
Perhaps today,
Someone else will be lucky,

He takes my hand again,
And we head back,
The sight is hard to look at,
But, it's imprinted on the back,
Of my eyelids,

I blink hard to remove the dust,
My whole body feels dirty and aches,
And a cut bleeds down my face,
The sunlight begins to fade,
And he again says to me,

"We're the lucky ones."