The Nation of the Glorious Turnip

I'm going commercial! haha, not really, but it does seem like all that I write is cliché cheesy stuff. Oh well, at least I am writing again.

For a dying man's daughter.

Crying, dying lying in my bed
The end draws closer still
eighty years running through my head
I wonder going up this final hill
What will become of my child?
Will she be happy will she be sad?
I loved every time she smiled
I just wish lately she had
smiled for me, I may be dying
I may be crying
But my time is near
And if you happen to shed a tear
Remember that I'll always be here.
For you.