conversations

eleven

i got a call the other day

my father's dead, he left this place

to his funeral, the sky so grey

tears in my eyes, oh how i regret our ways

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both of my parents are dead

this moment i seem to dread

these high waters i always tread

feeling alone once again

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i visited my old house

where once lived my mother and her spouse

i enter my room, see my old blouse

memories take over, so the light i douse