Larry Breen did you lead a blessed life;
full of songs and hope.
With no bridge at Minneapolis.
Do you dream down there in the earth.
In this graveyard full of ancestors;
where we meet by accident.
You a permanent fixture.
Me a tourist, the king of lucky escapes.
I guess we’ll meet again; when I’m like you:
a memory, a photo, a recurring anniversary.
Now it’s time to go.
You see somewhere over there lies my father:
a memory, a photo, a recurring anniversary.
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