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The Twenty-Fifth Of April

THIS day is Anzac Day!
Made sacred by the memory
Of those who fought and died, and fought and live,
And gave the best that men may give
For love of Land. It dawns once more,
And, though on alien sea and shore
The guns are silent all,
Yet we with pride recall
The deeds which gave it immortality.
Great deeds are deathless things!
The doer dies, but not the deed,
And, when upon that fateful April day
Our Anzacs, throwing all but love away,
Gave life and limb for Honour's sake,
With Freedom tremblingly at stake,
They lit a beacon-light
Imperishable, bright,
That evermore the Nation's soul shall heed.
Not Peace, not Peace alone
Can make a nation great and good
And bring it that full stature, strength, and grace
That fit it for an age-enduring place
In men's regard. Through storm and strife
It runs to sweet and noble life;
For through its veins there runs
The valour of great sons
Who died to give it stately nationhood.
This day is Anzac Day!
Made sacred by the thrilling thought
Of those who proved their souls, it reappears;
And thus 'twill dawn, and dawn through future years
Till Time our petty deeds efface,
And others, dwelling in our place,
Tell o'er, with tongue and pen,
The glorious tale again
Of how on beach and crag the Anzacs fought.

poem by Roderic Quinn
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Anzac Day

Patriotic men and women from sixty down to sixteen
Rode proudly on their horses in the famed Anzac green
Followed by the women of the Red Cross in their renowned white and red
On this day every April they honour the war dead.

Up to the war memorial where a large crowd stand around
And at the front of the congregation old 'Diggers' to be found
Old veterans of World war 2 they show their years in gray
Their war medals pinned to their lapels their bravery on display.

A lone bugler played the last post to honour the war dead
And an old man who was standing near i saw him bow his head
And tears were trickling down his face his thoughts were far away
Some noble men who were his friends in foreign Country lay.

We are gathered here this morning the ageing speaker said
To commemorate true heroes our great and brave war dead
They made the ultimate sacrifice and at a young age they did die
And we have them in part to thank for the freedom we enjoy

For our soldiers who died in foreign wars for their souls let us pray
It's only to remember them that we have Anzac day
Their bones may lay in foreign fields but in history they survive
And the spirit of the Anzac is still very much alive.

He thanked the old war veterans who marched in the parade
How can we thank you enough for the sacrifice you've made
You risked your lives in cause of peace 'we salute you today'
You noble men who won the war in Country far away.

He thanked the red cross women the finest in the Land
And the bugler who played 'The Last Post' and the six piece marching band
And the horse riders dressed as Anzacs in the famed faded green
And he asked the band to finish up by playing 'God save the Queen'.

And the band played 'God save the Queen' but not 'Advance Australia Fair'
And i who doesn't believe in war could only feel aware
That in Britain they don't play the Australian anthem when they honour their war dead
Was it for Britain or Australia that young Aussie blood was shed? .

The horse riders dressed as Anzacs in the famed faded green
And the bugler played the last post and the band played 'God Save The Queen'.
And a war veteran spoke of Aussie war dead their bones in Europe lay
At least they are remembered still on every Anzac Day.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Rememberance Day

On remembrance day we honour all
Each gave their best enduring call
God bless each one for being there
All our service men did their share.

Soldiers young and soldiers old
Fought the war brave and bold
They fought in Air, Land and Sea
If not for them where would we be.

Some lived while others died
As they fought side by side
They fought many a day and night
Their mission sure their spirits bright.

The loved ones bore the greatest pain
So many thoughts will never wane
We're proud of all the forces who
Fought for the Red, White and Blue.

We'll never let their special day
Their time of honour slip away
Though we may not know each name
We thank all the forces just the same.

'Wrote for November 11 th'

poem by Hazel Connelly
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America s Strength (series #2)

As a youngster I began to wonder “ how this great nation came to be”.
People from all over the world looking for a new life to escape tyranny.
This became AMERICAS history.

Then we had our civil war and we fought as state to state.
We all became UNITED and that made this nation great.
So we put the two together and the UNITED STATES was formed.
Little did we know- that this would be the “ norm”.

Look around you, and you will see
Every ethnic group, that’s how we came to be.
AMERICA is not just a country, but a land
Where the bell of freedom rings
And from every country, its people it will bring.

AMERICA is a dream- a vision, a quest- if you must
But in this great nation we put all our trust.
So give us your humble, your poor, your weak
If freedom is what they seek.

This is what made this nation, and gave dreams to all mankind
For we will fight for this country, our lives we’ll put on the line.
We will get stronger, and you will weaken and die
For you can not break our spirit, no matter how you try.

“ now many will say I’m a dreamer”
But that’s how this world came to be
Every small dream has become a reality.

We wanted to hide the pictures and videos
From our children of what you had done.
Because we had felt that they was much to young.

Now we’ve decided to teach and show them about
This cowardly act, and to give them knowledge
And show them all the facts.

poem by Louis Rams
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The Lust We Fought For

The lust we fought for in now just a pile of ash.
The lust we fought for was a lie to it's very last.
The lust we fought for burns in my memory every night.
The kust we fought for wasn't worth it's own right.
The lust we fought for seemed so out of control.
The lust we fought for only needed us to grab ahold.
So the lust we fought for wasn't lust at all.
Indeed it was love that made our great fall.
The lust we fought for keeps me crying at night.
The lust we fought for has me praying to turn it right.
The lust we fought for makes me miss you more.
The lust we fought for broke my heart to it's core.
The lust we fought for brings out a million tears.
The lust we fought for challenged all of my fears.
So the lust we fought for was the pain i deserved to face.
Indeed it was love from that magically beautiful place.
The lust we fought for is now gone up in flames...
Because I now know that the lust we fought for was real all the same.

poem by Erin Grantham
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Independance Day!

I am the 15th august
I am remembered for one day every year
I make you proud every year
I am your life's most memorable august.

I make you feel free,
I give a unique feeling,
You've now got an independent country,
I've given you the most cherished feeling.

I have been your most sought day,
You gave innumerable sacrifices,
Ultimately I came out be your dream day.
I've given your life the best of the rarest prizes.

I am the Independence Day,
I've given you a hope for the future.
You've now got an open cage to live in.
I am your freedom day.

You make unlimited promises on this day,
You take vows to make your nation pride,
You make promises of taking the nation forward,
You plan of making the nation bright.

All your promises remain as promises.
All your plans get buried the next day.
All your aspirations flow along with your celebrations
You barely remember what actually your promises were

You feel patriotic for just one day
You flow into the celebrations the whole day
You proudly wave the national flag around
You keep the flag close to your chest

Eight hours of sleep is enough
To make us forget this memorable day
Weren't the sacrifices more than enough
To make us realize the value of this day

They fought for their lovely country
They died to save their dying Nation
They struggled for the elusive Independence
They had really hoped for a much better Nation

I proudly say I am the Independence Day
I fill your heart with 365 days of vigor
I give you the confidence of building a better Nation
I give you the feeling of making the Nation Bigger

I still see hungry people around
I still see child slaves around
I see people dividing themselves.
I get pained by the different classes around

This is not the Nation they fought for,
This is not the day they fought for.
Let's make a real unanimous vow
Let's promise that we are going to look after the Nation now

I plead you not to treat me as any other day
Let's make everyday as an Independence Day
Let's remove the hatred and spread Love around
I ask you to give some value for this Day
I am 15th August, I am the Independence Day

poem by Jameel Ahmed Ansari
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Centennial

Come all ye friends of Liberty,
Who love our good old nation,
Let hands and hearts united be,
And beat the wide creation.
For this is our Centennial year,
The birthday of our nation;
For it is just one hundred years
That's stood our good old nation.

CHORUS:

Centennial! Centennial!
Hurrah to the Centennial;
And many, many people gone
To our national Centennial.

To Philadelphia people went,
And more was sure to go, sir;
They say there was things to be seen
Of a hundred years ago, sir.
Come all ye sons of liberty,
That love our good old nation,
Unite and keep our country free,
And the stars and stripes a waving.

The revolutionary war was fought
To gain our independence,
That we a nation great may be,
Both free and independent.
They fought the British, far and near,
For freedom, and they gained it --
In Centennial years of Jubilee,
Let Columbia's sons maintain it.

poem by Julia A Moore
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Forth Of July Celebration

(7/4/12)

It's the 4th of JULY celebration
Where people who wanted freedom
Fought to create this nation.

Many had died to give us this right
And over two hundred years we continue to fight.
We still give freedom to all who arrive
This is our nations pride.

People who have come here from every nation
Join one another for this celebration.
In our nations capital we have our liberty bell
Where our cry for freedom was to " give them hell".

Through out our nation you will see fireworks shot in the sky
To remind us of how these AMERICANS fought and died.
So weather it be fireworks you shoot in the sky
Or a sparkler that you hold in your hand
Pride is something that we understand.

Join us in this celebration - "feel the pride
Feel the sensation."

poem by Louis Rams
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How Great

Like a mother mine was delighted she gave birth
It feels as great as we felt coming to live on earth
Great as we thought it was when joining school
Highly respectable as we perceived our graduation
with great love of money for love and infatuation
Much as we thought money made people great

Then the job made great impact on love perception
We were held higher by those thinking we were great
Our mind made us take a great pride in education
With little regards to the good great book we forgot
For great eloquence in language for communication
For great crowds of ladies and gentlemen we fought
The more lovers one has, the easier it was to feel great

How great was the lavish and satisfaction
How great the diversity and the depth we experienced
How great the comfort to feel the hardness and softness
How great on earth does it taste fornication?
How great when we fear not for our Godlessness
How great when we die is going to be our tribulation?

poem by Linus Kithinji Njeru
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Beautiful Twenty-Second

To Original Music

The people in this nation,
Have kept for many years,
February twenty-second,
That day we love it dear.
It's our forefather's birthday,
Brave, noble Washington;
And may we ever keep it,
Through all the years to come.

CHORUS:

Beautiful twenty-second,
Beautiful twenty-second,
May the people ever keep it,
Beautiful twenty-second.

One of the constitution builders,
Was that brave, noble man,
He fought under that dear flag
That's loved throughout our land.
He went through many battles,
He fought for liberty,
That this glorious republic
A nation great may be.

Chorus --

Oh, keep the twenty-second,
In honor to his name,
Who fought to gain our freedom
From England's British chains.
Now he is sweetly sleeping,
Brave, noble Washington,
May the people not forget him,
Columbia's noblest son.

poem by Julia A Moore
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Do you remember still the little song

Do you remember still the little song
I mumbled on the hill at Aura, how
I told you it was made for Katie's sake
When I was fresh from school and loving her
With all the strength of girlhood? And you said
You liked my song, although I didn't know
How it began at first and gabbled then
In a half voice, because I was too shy
To speak aloud, much less to speak them out —
Words I had joined myself — in the full voice
And with the lilt of proper poetry.
You could have hardly heard me. Here's the girl,
The little girl from school you never knew.
She made this song. Read what you couldn't hear.
How bright the windows are
When the dear sun shineth.
They strive to reflect the sun,
To be bright like the sun,
To give heat like the sun.
My heart too has its chosen one
And so to shine designeth.
The windows on the opposite hill that day
Shone bright at sunset too and made me think
Of the old patter I had half forgot,
Do you remember? I remind you now,
Who wandered yesterday for half an hour
Into St Francis, where I thought of you
And how I would be glad to love you well
If I but knew the way. The rhyme came back
Teasing me till I knew I hated it.
I couldn't take that way of loving you.
That was the girl's way. Hear the woman now.
Out of my thinking in the lonely church
And the day's labour in a friendly room
Tumbled a song this morning you will like.
I love my love
But I could not be
Good for his sake.
That frightens me.
Nor could I do
Such things as I should
Just for the sake
Of being good.
Deeds are too great
To serve my whim,
Be ways of loving
Myself or him.
Whether my deeds
Are good or ill
They're done for their own,
Not love's sake, still.
I didn't know it till the song was done
But that's Ramiro in a nutshell, eh,
With his contempt for individual souls
And setting of the deed above the man.
Perhaps I like him better than I thought,
Or would like, if he'd give me leave to scorn
Chameleon, adjectival good and ill
And set the deed so far above the man
As to be out of reach of morals too.
There you and I join issue once again.

poem by Lesbia Harford
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True Love

Put myself aside.
For the sake of another.
The one I call friend.
The one I call lover.

My jaded past.
And The hurt that I gave.
The pain she endured.
My emotional slave.

I have learned a new way.
I see through new eyes.
I want to bring joy.
Into both of our lives.

He will come first.
With her right behind.
What once was all selfish.
Now loving and kind.

It's not about envy.
I've nothing to boast.
The One I gave the least.
He gave me the most.

He got rid of my pride.
Now her heart I can see.
He showed me that you.
Should come before me.

All my past angers.
They've just about ceased.
His mercy and grace.
Has given me peace.

I cannot explain.
The joy that He brings.
By loving another.
And not loving things.

The gifts that He shared.
He gave when I sought.
Is now a reality,
And no longer a thought.

I thought in my mind,
It couldn't be real.
Thank you Lord Jesus.
For what I now feel.

What's true and what's right.
What's noble and just.
I give You my heart.
I give You my trust.

The one who I love.
My friend who is true.
I will give to no other.
But I give her to You.

You made my heart soft.
She made my heart melt.
You've shown me a love.
I never had felt.

Your love is the truth.
My love was just lies.
I give thanks that you showed me,
My wife through Your eyes.

poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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The Old Maid's Story

Ay, many and many a year's gone by,
Since the dawn of that day in spring,
When we met in the pine-woods, Harry and I,
And he gave me this golden ring.
I had lovers in plenty, of high degree,
Who wooed in my father's hall;
But none were so noble and brave as he,
Though he was the scorn'd of all.
On the soft, green grass, where the shadows lay,
All fleck'd with the sun and dew,
With a ring and a kiss did we seal, that day,
Our vow to be leal and true.

'Twas a life-long vow;—but they did not know—
And they thought not of love or pain;—
We met just once in the sleet and snow—
We were never to meet again!
He was sent away o'er the blank, wide sea,
And I, with my hopes and fears,
Had never a message to comfort me
For over a score of years.
They laugh'd at my heart, they paraded my hand,
But I answer'd them, cold and grim—
“If Harry ne'er comes to his native land,
They shall only belong to him.”

At last came a tale from the battle-field;—
And they were not scornful now.
The sentence of exile might be repealed—
They would honour our plighted vow!
They told how my Harry, like olden knights,
Had fought for his land and Queen;
Fought hard and well on the Alma heights,
Where the deadliest strife was seen.
They told how he fell in the fire and smoke,
And they gave me his things to keep;
They wonder'd why I never cried or spoke,—
But it was too late to weep.

poem by Ada Cambridge
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Sonnet: 58th Indian Independence-Day

’Tis fifty-eight years since India turned afree!
Our homage to all freedom-fighters great;
The blood of martyrs won freedom ably;
‘Satyagraha’, ‘Ahimsa’ set the date.

The Nation’s Father, Gandhiji was brave;
He etched a place that none can ev’r surpass;
The peace-tilak, tricolor flag, he gave;
We tend to forget how he fought, alas!

India’s democracy’s exemplary;
We want the world to live in amity;
‘Peaceful Co-existence’ message, we carry;
We will preserve India’s integrity.

poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: Virtues

Just when I thought I’d paid a hefty price
For honesty in life, I realized
That after all, I’d done a thing so wise,
Although the world around me criticized!

Just when I thought I’d worked too hard in life,
But never got rewarded yet enough,
God gave me awesome problems / added strife,
To make my mind and heart really tough!

Just when I thought I’d tried to practice truth
In ways exemplary, more than I ought,
God made me understand its genuine worth,
And some more battles for that sake I fought!

To live a virtuous life is great a task;
But this is what the Lord one day will ask!

poem by John Celes
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Afar Off

1.

Is it a will o' the wisp, or is dawn breaking,
That our horizon wears so strange a hue?
Is it but one more dream, or are we waking
To find at last that dreams are coming true?

2.

Far off and faint, a golden line is streaking
The cloudy night that shrouds the life of man;
It is the sun that dim eyes have been seeking,
Through all blind pathways, since the world began.

3.

The sign to weary heart and waiting nation
That day will come to bring them their release
That, late or soon, through storm and tribulation,
Or with slow change, the earth shall rest in peace.

4.

That One, invoked, with half- despairing passion.
Through years and years of wrong, will right us then;
Will take away, in rude or gentle fashion,
The curse that man has laid on brother- men.

5.

Ah, blessed One! our souls go out to meet thee,
At whose feet Hope will fold her tired wing;
And yet we know not how we ought to greet thee,
And take the gifts thy bounteous arms will bring.

6.

Come not, O friend! with vengeful weapons, borrowed
Of them that warred against thee — sword and flame;
For all alike have suffered and have sorrowed,
And all alike have sinned against thy name.

7.

Come thou to men who groan in sore affliction
A breathing spirit of new life and grace;
Come in thy robes of light and benediction,
That all may recognize thy perfect face.

8.

Yet, as thou must, come soon, for them than need thee —
And thou wilt come — Deliverer great and strong!
Brighten, O tender dawn, though few may heed thee,
And bring the day that we have sought so long!

9.

No class strife then, each man against his neighbour,
No waste, no want, to breed the plague of crime;
No insolent pomp, no hard and sordid labour,
No wars, no famines, in that happier time!

10.

But pleasant homes, and good days growing better;
Contented hearts throughout the tranquil land,
That keep the law, in spirit and in letter,
Which we have been so dull to understand.

11.

And fruitful work, instead of barren duty,
With fruitful rest and leisure interweaved;
And life made bright with plenty and with beauty,
And souls made strong with noble aims achieved.

12.

Great Art, no more the plaything of the idle,
But nurse and handmaid to all human needs;
Great Nature, curbed no more with bit and bridle,
Nor men's religion crushed in bitter creeds.

13.

Nor sacred Love a crime, a jest, an error,
To keep or lose, to give or to suppress,
A secret shame, an anguish and a terror,
A curse to them that it was meant to bless.

14.

All round our narrow lives the tide encroaches,
Distant and dim, but spreading far and fast.
O Liberty, thy longed- for reign approaches
That is to give man's birthright back at last!
vasts;

15.

And must we go, who see the new age dawning,
While yet we suffer in the pangs of birth,
Nor breathe one breath of the divinest morning
That yet has come to bless our waiting earth?

16.

Oh, must we go, just when the day is growing?
Oh, must we waste with vast and vain desires,
Like sparks put out when viewless winds are blowing,
We, lit and quickened with supernal fires

17.

Are we to read no more the wondrous pages
Of this great tale that evermore goes on?
Will suns and stars light up eternal ages
With happier worlds — and we alone be gone?

18.

Never to learn the moral of the story —
Why we have toiled for what we must not keep,
Why we have fought to win no crown of glory,
Why we have sown what unborn hands will reap.

19.

Never to learn wherefore our Maker sent us
With these immortal passions in our breast.
Ah me! Ah me! Wherewith can we content us
To know so much, and not to know the rest!

poem by Ada Cambridge
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Anzac Day 2005

Each time Anzac Day returns
I listen to the history
Solemnly reflect
On the deeds and outcomes
And usually shed a quiet tear
Mourning the losses
The massive sacrifices
And the futility,
Chill at the Last Post
Choke with pride
And whisper under my breath
The Ode of Remembrance
Hopefully connecting
To the spirit of Anzac
To nation, to history
To personal feelings
Of a debt accepted
But its full magnitude unimaginable,
A generation discounted by conflict
A cost too high,
And yet I seek to live its essence
With resilience, honesty
And dogged determination.

poem by Danny Draper
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India’s 63rd Independence Day – a Pledge

India is our land, our Motherland!
Sacred are the soil, water and air;
All Indians are our brothers, sisters;
We love our nation great and care.

Our nation is not rich but isn’t poor;
We love its vastness and its heritage;
We are proud to be called Indians;
We will usher a golden new age.

We love our home where we were born;
We trust in God and work for global peace;
We want amity among nations all;
We pray to God that wars may cease.

We want to live in harmony;
We want to progress very fast;
We want to help all those who need;
Our bickering is things of the past.

We will not force nor allow foes;
We toil to reach the moon and stars;
We stand united in joys and woes;
We pledge our lives for nation’s sake.

The Indian heart has love for life;
The Indian soul is kind from birth;
The Indian welcomes any strife;
The Indian brain is best on earth.

We are a nation proud and good;
We want to share our love and peace;
We brook not outside interference;
Impenetrable is our nation’s defence!
Jai Hind! Jai Bharat! Jai Indian!

Copyright by Dr John Celes 15-08-2009

poem by John Celes
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I Am That Glorious Nothing, In Everyone and Everything!

It is dawn for me,
dawn of a life,
at dusk of my life,
Neither its a new life
nor its the old one,
When everything is destiny and fate,
Why I have to wish and will,
If Gods gave me something,
That took back with interest,
God is lovable lender of pressure
as well as pleasure,
Takes more than gave
and one's pain and loses of freedom
are the compound interest paid!
Prayer with desires and ambitions,
Succeeded only to make me prey to more desires!

Every heart is full of love,
And that it filled with Life's love,
And it make one
love the life!

Life's own turns,
Depends on the path destined,
Radius of the path make all difference!

Sometimes it flows like a river, dives deep,
Or has more depth, where it flow slow,
Sometimes fast where depth is low!

Life is a like river for the one who destined to flow down to ocean,
But life is not river to one has seen ocean everywhere,
Life doesn't flow,
Only it is flow of energy from higher potential to lower potential,
From youth to old age,
From freedom to bondage of senses and deeds!

Think Ramdas, Think of that great Truth,
Where there is one neither born nor die,
Only dream and sigh!

From that nothingness,
Nothing I brought,
To that nothingness I can't take anything,
Whatever looks like this thing, that thing,
Everything is nothing
for this nothing, neither came nor go,
I am neither a glacier to melt and flow,
nor I am rock to stay here!

I must go before I want to know myself,
I want to die in my ownself,
Before I can live unto my own
nature!

I never want win anything,
As my win is not my win,
And I have neither one to win,
Nor something to win,
As I amthat everything in nothing
And that glorious nothing among everyone and everything!

poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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The Mother's Prayer

This was my little son
Who leapt and laughed on my knee:
Body we made with love,
Soul made with love by Thee.
This was the mystery
In which I worshipped Thy grace;
This was the sign to me -
The unveiling of Thy face . . .
This, that lies under Thy skies
Naked as on that day
When the floor of heaven gave way
And the glory of God shone through,
When the world was made new
And Thy word was made flesh for me . . .
He lies there, bare to Thy skies,
O Lord God, see!

Body that was in mine
A secret, sacred spell,
Little hands I have kissed
Trampled by beasts in Hell . . .
Growing beauty and grace . . .
Oh, head that lay on my bosom . . .
Broken, battered, shattered . . .
Body that grew like a blossom!
All that was promised me
On my life's royal day.
Every promise broken -
Only a ghost, and clay!

O God, I kneel at Thy feet;
I lay my hands in Thine:
Thou gavest Thy Son for the world,
And shall I not give mine?
Only--O God, have pity!
All my defences are down:
God, I accept the Cross,
Let HIM have the Crown!

By all that my love has borne,
By all that all mothers bear,
By the infinite patient anguish,
By the never-ceasing prayer,
By the thoughts that cut like a living knife,
By the tears that are never dry,
Take what he died to win You -
God, take Your victory!

We have watched on till the light burned low,
And watched the dawn awake;
We have lived hardly and hardly fared
For our sons' sake.
All that was good in Thy earth,
All that taught us of Heaven,
All that we had in the world
We have given.
We pray with empty hands
And hearts that are stiff with pain.
O God! O God! O God!
Let the sacrifice not be vain.
This is his blood, Lord, see!
His blood that was shed for Thee;
Thy banner is dyed in that red tide
Lord, take Thy victory!

God! give Thine angels power
To fight as he fought,
To scatter the hosts of evil,
To bring their boastings to naught -
Gabriel with trumpet of battle . . .
Michael, who wields Thy sword . . .
Breathe Thou Thy spirit upon them,
Put forth Thy strength, O Lord.
See, Lord, this is his body,
Broken for Thee, for Thee . . .
My son, my little son,
Who leapt and laughed on my knee.

poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wish You Were Here

Funny how the years
They just pass us by
Seems like yesterday
You were in my life
You always wanted
To start a family
I was way too young
I was runnin' free
If you could only see me now
You'd realize
I'm not the boy who
Made you cry
You gave yourself
I didn't see it
You died in me
I should've saved you
Oh
Wish you were here with me
I thought I knew it all
How stupid could I be?
I think of all I had
And it makes me weak
If you could only see me now
You'd realize
I'm not the boy who
Made you cry
You gave yourself
I didn't see it
You died in me
I should've saved you
Oh
Wish you were here with me
Sometimes
You hurt the ones who love you most
And sometimes
You hold the ones who leave you lost
And sometimes
You learn but it's too late
It's too late
You gave yourself
I didn't see it
You died in me
I should've saved you
You gave yourself
Why did you give yourself to me?
You died in me
Why was I too blind to see?
Oh
Oh
Oh
Wish you were here with me
Funny how the years
Just pass us by

song performed by by Enrique Iglesias
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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