He’s gone, he’s never coming back,

And all I’ve got is dust,

I want to feel his fur once more,

But accept it I must.

I want to deny it though,

Pretend that it’s not true,

Imagine he’ll come and lick my fingers,

Like he used to do.

I always knew this day would come,

I promised I wouldn’t cry,

I’ve already spilled enough tears,

Just saying goodbye.

But I remember good times,

Like when he was just

That little baby Sherlock

Now all I’ve got is dust.

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