THIRTY FIVE HUNDRED DAYS

Some have said
That there is a peace found in our dead
But there was a sadness in your face
You loved your God
and now I hate mine just ‘cause
Watching you fall was my fall from grace
And you’ve been gone for thirty five hundred days
And I’ll keep on, though I know it’s not the same
The last time I saw you, my mother held tight to her children's hands and prayed