I remember when he sang love songs with
depth and sincerity
I remember when he spoke softly of peace
and serenity
I remember when he picked daisies and lived
in tranquility
I remember when he sang love songs and
nobody heard him but me
There was always a message he tried to
portray in his patient sort of way
He sang of believing and caring and no one
accepted the gifts he was sharing
Til he had nothing else to say
I hear the anger in his guitar, the echo of
rage in his metalic voice
Blasting a world that cheated and lied
until vengeance left him no choice
I remember when he sang a love song to the
few that had chosen his fold
It's hard to envision a love song from a
voice turned callous and cold
I remember the pleeing and sadness in the
last love song that he played
As he wiped the tear that fell from his eye
when apathy drove them away.
