I wrote this in a pub, remembering someone from my childhood, a face from the past. It's not a very good memoriam, but it's what I had to offer.
Tears never mattered much to me
They never changed the look of things
Or brought back the way they used to be
No home with sun and birds to sing
Just cloudy skies and rolling seas
Which no salty drop could dent
So take another glass of whiskey
And work away to pay your rent
But stop the tiniest moment, see
The smallest part, the larger brings
A drop of cachaça, a step up Mount Shasta
The grace of a moment, and life is spent
