There's nothing to say that hasn't already been said.
There's nothing to do that hasn't already been done.
In the end my best friend will still be dead,
and his sweet parents will still mourn a son.
The memories of happier times fade in my head,
and errors of the past can never be undone.
Clover on a grave watered by tears we shed;
An old wound renews because Spring has sprung.
There's nothing to say as the same path I tread.
There's nothing to do about walking it now alone.
In remembrance of Richard Wilhite
January 18, 1973 - March 18, 2007
