I think about it all the time, The grassy plains And the homely feel that each individual Building gave to the heart. The place I used to call home. The wooden house on the top of the hill,
Blow out the candles And you’re another year older. You might not feel like anything has changed, But even as those sparkles from extinguished candles fade away It's happened.
For the madman Sentenced to the Death Row Over fourteen chopped-drowned-beaten bodies. The man who used to have his own home, The man with the stable job rising in the office,
A day of Festivities, A day to remember for the ages Locked away in photos, videos, and memories Not remembered. Two for the altar, But only one is known to me.