Guest wrote:You're a history book, which I never could write
Your poetry in paralysis too sweet to recite
So dress yourself, bless yourself; you've won the fight
And we're going to celebrate tonight
We'll even climbed the pillar like you always meant to
And will watch the sun rise over the strand
Close our eyes and we'll pretend
That it could be the same again
And then I'll bury you upright so the sun doesn't blind you
And you don't have to gaze at the rain and the stars
You can sleep and dream of the Moral Bar
And whiskey in the jar
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