All the songs written
for those that died young
all the portraits painted
for our long gone sons
It hurts so goddamn bad,
And I want to go back
but it's no longer there
rusted and rotted
what I remembered is not there anymore
paint's peeled and the carpets cracked
and weeds are growing up through the floor
It hurts so goddamn bad
and I want to go back
but he's no longer there
the house still stands
the home of a man
who's a saint
and a scent in my air.
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