Written by: Patrick Cornwall

Driving and thinking of my friends that are gone.

I weep for them because they have died to soon.

But they come to me alive and free with their secrets.

I see them when I close my eyes.

The tattoo we got is fading.

I'll be back.

I can't speak but the man on the corner knows.

I hold up my hand and make a peace sign.

I stutter and most don't want me around when they are getting high.

Crawling on the floor searching and the peepers lifting the blind.

I paid through my soul and with fear.

I'll be back

And that fear of not finding blinds me against the wall.

Reluctantly I give another piece of darkness.

I have learned sign language as again I hold up the peace.

The man searches my face as he bends down and reaches into the trash.

He hands me two and I soar home and its clear.

I'll be back.