My best friend died last night. I never knew him at all.
He shared his life with me, so I’ll be drinking tall.
And others went before, we only get to follow.
It’s just the way we live. We must die from the sorrow.
The taste of death is cold
and I have grown old.
Everything goes away. Only true love remains.
It gives a little sting, and leaves the greatest stains.
He gave me truth and patience, he gave me all that I need:
Hope, love, time and comfort. The rest is chicken feed.
The walls are closing in. This world is crashing down.
He couldn’t stand to watch it, chose not to be around.
Everything went away. And only this love remains.
There is a painful scar, and a new favorite stain.