Through the window in the kitchen,
I see your face,
I see the worry, as you wash the plates.
I see the tears you cry over the family meal,
the meal that you set upon the table,
that never took place,
and oh, the journey it was cruel,
because the car crash killed those you loved,
and how I feel for you,
and how I hate to see you in such a state,
and as you cry, I wonder why,
and I bemoan your loved one’s fate,
and yes,
yes, how I wish it was not so,
how I wish it was not so,
as I gently lay the flowers down at your garden gate.
