to free the flame from burnin' up inside
to thunder like a motorcycle headed down the line
to eat, to weep, to lay me down so sweet
to sow, to reap, or to let our glasses clink
to time, to time, to time
His wife behind the camera, his daughter and his baby boy. Got a glimmer in his eye, seems to say, this is what I’ll miss about being alive. And this is what I’ll miss after I die. My body. My girls. My boy. The sun.