The sinful fears, and rightous fire
to make quick meats, the lives of men
from sucked babes to dust again
what lies beneath the title page
a loves quarrel, a poor mans grave
a passion cry, a madmans sigh
the smell of powder, death and thighs
we wander through the file of our days
distracted by our petty ways
until one day we live no more
but cease to be and cut the cord
"remember me" we cry to late
"my life was more than just two dates"
but what if we could go again
if god said yes upon a whim
if you were free to choose anew
would you choose me
to be with you?
--Terry Moore