Miss our talks and laughter.
Brief moments I still think you’re out there – living.
Then… gone, still gone.
“When will you be yourself… funny again?”
I dunno… I dunno.
I write poetry now, because it’s there.
No candy in 16 days – you’d laugh at that.
But, you can’t – gone, still gone.
Feeling like Jack Kerouac right here;
(snap snap) Still gone man, still gone. (Snap snap)
This isn’t easy, my friend, not easy all.
Gone, still gone – 16 days of gone.