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So, I didn't really know you really-- just the way that people pass by the cubes of our lives as screen-savers swirl behind the ends of days and the tiny conversations of music and motorcycle rides and the things the coming weeks may bring.
Been trying my best to remember the last thing I said, the last time we met. You, with your newly-shaved head, looking so tough and true that I thought I knew you were kicking in the ass of this crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy Thing.
(chorus) Twenty-thousand-odd days walking under the sun seems like much but it's not--you'd barely just begun. Oh....another golden one who's gone too soon. And I'm missing you.
There's a full-blown drama that orbits every point on the curve, on the circle of our lives. They go 'round and 'round and some fly away or fall to the ground. From dust we all came--ah, but ain't it a shame when someone falls from the stage? The playwright spills his ink and the curtain hits the cast, breaking all our backs.
(chorus)
Up on the top shelf your book will go and I'll sit and watch the evening sun creep and glow along the row of golden spines whose stories end before their time.
[This message has been edited by Brian Austin Whitney (edited 08-31-2002).]
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