You make me wish time could be like jars of honey. Where I could take a particular week down from the shelf. On those nights when the wind is trying to claw its way in. And it would still be good. I could slip between the flames and wake up in your eyes. Darin reminds us of Mack the Knife and your bishop is in check but we can’t stop laughing about the sad gorilla. Therein lies the life I’ll tell them about. If there be a thousand more lives. This is the one to be remembered. Because of that one jar of honey.