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• Artiste: Lyre Le Temps
• Titre: Saturday Night
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My old man died on a Saturday night I watched as he just stopped breathing And though it was awful and painful and sad I was glad that he wasn't alone It felt like something he'd just had to go through An arduous task he'd been given And it seemed so unfair it was his cross to bear The sickest and weakest of us We never spoke much as a father and son But we had an understanding And I still hear his voice when I open my mouth In anger, or wisdom, or such If I see a similar jacket or hair I think for a moment I've found him But then I remember, it's not about "where" And I know he's not lost, he is gone I'm just glad that he wasn't alone