• Picture it:
    Down the hallway, to your right,
    In the living room, in the light,
    There sits a picture frame,
    As if in the Hall of Fame,
    Right next to the ashes,
    Right there by the chimney,
    The girl with long lashes,
    Now burned away memory.

    So long ago,
    That it had happened,
    What had bestowed,
    Upon that year.
    The year that that girl,
    Was cuaght in a twirl,
    As the fire,
    Raged of control.

    No it is not fair,
    Or so they say,
    Isn't it amazing?
    How much things can change?
    How could it be,
    That you and me,
    Were separated,
    So unwillingly?

    I walked down the hallway,
    To the right,
    And into the living room,
    And into the light,
    Where there sat a picture frame,
    As if in the hall of fame,
    Right next to those ashes,
    Right next to that chimney,
    And I reached for the picture,
    And then so suddenly,
    I remember.

    That little girl,
    Caught in that fire,
    The one with long lashes,
    Now burned away memory.
    She was so perfect,
    But now she's gone,
    How could it be that it,
    Had happened this way?