You used to be a person, with pure skin and teeth,
but now you lie in soil six feet underneath,
All remains of you, they say,
is a grey stone plastered thin,
but I say to these people that they're thoughts are of sin.
Today is your birthday, but you can't eat your cake,
because my old friend you made a mistake,
im not blaming you, but should I blame the world?,
did they throw stones or did they spit and hurl?
Your memories last, but I can't make any new,
how id trade my life for a question to you,
I want to know reasons that I shall never know,
everyone is chanting, that I should just let go.
but all those times I spent, braiding your auburn hair,
those aren't what I throw away without a subtle care,
I miss you a lot, especially with this suns ray,
because the ninth of July will always be your day.