It's a perfect time to say goodbye,
Yet I've so many tears left to cry,
Because every time, it's time to lie,
One of you down, in the ground,
Part of me dies.

I remember when we'd all run free,
Playing, teasing, climbing trees.
Now all that's left of you is me.
Without you here...
What will I be?

Can I be you? Can I be me?
Is there a way to ease this disease,
That's eating daily away at me?
A little more time, I suppose,
And we'll see.

My guilt, when raised,
It lasts for days; And days,
On edge I am; I pray,
That I'll see you again one day.
Until then, all I have to say...

Is I'm sorry that you died that way...