You just left.
After 17 years.
Laying on your brand new bed
That we had some stranger make for you.
As if that somehow made up for it.
You wanted to surf,
God, I wish you could’ve…
Two parts sarcoma,
But you were still our Ali.
Laying in your Led Zeppelin T-shirt,
That you wore more than you should’ve.
And even then you made me laugh
I don’t know how the hell you did that.
Somehow you made it okay
Until the morphine said goodbye.