|With whispering winds of sorrow, you wonder how you can go on.
You hear the march of death, for they sing her very song.
Her time had come to pass, as you stiffen your upper lip.
You don't want it to quiver or throw a mighty fit.
Even though she's gone, she'll never pass.
For pictures and memory is what makes one last.
With stories to be told, an memories to be shared, it might even feel like she right over there.
So if you feel lost or just need ear,
Never forget she'll always be near.