Do you remember the summer we played,
we stood up with  guitars on stage?
At the time it was a mess,
but I look back and must confess.

We started playing, I start to sing,
my voice came out a hoarse croaking,
she threw the drumstick through a door,
we were laughing on the floor.

Hot and stuffy we sat in the dark,
waiting for our smallest part.
The guitars went badly out of tune,
a wolf howling up at the moon.

I regret not trying to play once more,
before your soul went up to war,
the time we spent in the music hut,
freed me from my deadly rut,

Do you remember the day you died?
we heard about it, we cried we cried,
a darkness fell forever more,
never lifted, filled with regret, angry at god, us, us, the darkness tore.