I can't hardly remember
the sound of your voice,
but I saved your letters
that to me you wrote.

The way you spoke,
your funny and weird words,
we could stay together
but you say "Babe, I gotta go".

You belong to the ground
and the flowers above
all these daisies, each rose
are crying for your soul.

Where have you gone?
Would we meet somewhere again?
I am here on my own,
since the darkness is your friend.