I told someone about you yesterday
I told them about us.
Of the love. Of the loss. Of the pain and desolation.

I don’t talk of us lightly.
But it was the right thing to do
You see he was in the same situation
And he couldn’t see out of the hole

I’ve been there, you see
I clawed my way out without you
So I lent him my hand
Proof that loss of your ikizim isn’t a death sentence
Just a life in which you feel dead