How are you tonight, my friend?
Is it cool beneath the ground?
Although your heart's stopped beating,
I can hear its echoes sound.
No grey hair will grace your head,
Nor a wrinkle shall you find.
Forever young you must remain,
Never aging in my mind.
Stumbling home down midnight streets,
and my thoughts drift back to you.
Those winter nights so long ago
in my dim-lit third-story room.
Bitter tears, the hands of fate
cut a life off in full bloom.
Can barely stand this heart-ache,
loosing such a friend as you.