10 September 2013

Remembering Smurf the Nordic Bard

How else do you honor a musician than with a song?
It has been a decade and your legacy lives on.
I’ve been trying to write for you a song all of these years,
but nothing ever fits, nothing ever fits.

I remember when we were twelve, we’d argue all day long
about which one of us played the better guitar.
Now I hope that when I die, you’ll meet me at the gate
so we can finally finish our musical debate.

You were so unique, walking your own path,
brave as any Viking with blue hair and an axe.
You lived with no apologies, excuses nor regrets;
I always envied that, I always envied that.

And when you left us we asked ourselves,
if you knew how many lives you’d touched,
how many friends would cry at your funeral,
wondering what we all did wrong,
wondering what we could have done.

For ten years I’ve been haunted by my last words to you.
If only I’d known then how soon they would come true.
I promised you a story at 3am that night, but I was tired,
and instead I said, “There isn’t enough time."
There’s never enough time.

And when you left us we asked ourselves,
if you know how many friends you had,
how many messages left on your coffin lid
asked you what we all did wrong,
and what more we could have done.

And when you left us we asked ourselves,
if you knew how many lives you’d touched,
how many friends would cry at your funeral,
wondering what we all did wrong,
wondering what we could have done.

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