Infected with your loveThe virus infested in my heartIt grew around my body eating away at my mindIt ran through my blood and I it's willing hostLike water seeping into every gapThe doctors couldn't prescribe me anythingThey said it's too far gone I'm sorry there's nothing we can doThe machine went flat and a long beep came outYour face drained of colour, you moved to her faceRealisation infested your mindThe guilt grew around your bodyYou are bow the host
We didn't even noticed she had changedWe couldn't have told you she wasn't herselfShe was the winner of best actress years in a rowAnd the award goes to...Of course she could wear a smile like butter on toastThe only thing is we didn't know the butter was melting awayWe all say she makes us smileShe made us smile even at our worst timesWe were only there for her bestWe didn't read the signs she gave, the little messages she left in-cryptic waves and good morningsHow was we supposed to help? We couldn't have knownAlthough I know when we are all alone we think of her
You feel like sunshineA warm ray beaming down across my skinSoaking you inYou aren't around oftenNo one could ever find sunshine like youYou feel like moonlightA cool shimmer lighting up my skyWatching you growYou aren't around oftenNo one could ever find moonlight like you
Do not go gentle into that good night,Old age should burn and rave at close of day;Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Though wise men at their end know dark is right,Because their words had forked no lightning theyDo not go gentle into that good night.Good men, the last wave by, crying how brightTheir frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,Do not go gentle into that good night.Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sightBlind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
The sudden death of Eugene CarmanPut me in line to be promoted to fifty dollars a month,And I told my wife and children that night.But it didn’t come, and so I thoughtOld Rhodes suspected me of stealingThe blankets I took and sold on the sideFor money to pay a doctor’s bill for my little girl.Then like a bolt old Rhodes accused me,And promised me mercy for my family’s sakeIf I confessed, and so I confessed,And begged him to keep it out of the papers,And I asked the editors, too.That night at home the constable took meAnd every paper, except the Clarion,Wrote me up as a thiefBecause old Rhodes was an advertiser
How does it happen, tell me,That I who was most erudite of lawyers,Who knew Blackstone and CokeAlmost by heart, who made the greatest speechThe court-house ever heard, and wroteA brief that won the praise of Justice BreeseHow does it happen, tell me,That I lie here unmarked, forgotten,While Chase Henry, the town drunkard,Has a marble block, topped by an urnWherein Nature, in a mood ironical,Has sown a flowering weed?