And I saw the canisters first
And then I heard your voice
Through the tubes you complained
They cluttered up your room
The smell I could never place
With your perfume from Sunday
You asked us how we were
And how was the trip up
Postcards and photographs
We talk of foreign trips
And the time before he passed
He was a good man
And then I saw your face
Just like it was those days
But I write this on a plane
I won't see you again
And then I saw your face
I won't see you again
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