What
price a memory?
The
shadows of the pain,
The
echoes of the soft rain.
When
the thunder came,
Nothing
would ever be the same again.
Dreams
rot away, waste away, fly away.
Like
the love we once shared.
Like
the love we once made
In that
burning bed.
Always
hearing the whispers
Of the
wicked words we said.
Copyright
2002 S. Cordova
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