Sure, your eyes are locked with mine now

in the mist, tearing

Will you care then? Or will you be

unseeing, unfeeling

When my crimson tears on corduroy

fade away;

will those whispered pleas on your lips

still be my name?

Or will you smother me in silky fog and pretend

I don't exist -- again?

Will I ever have a being to be

my mentor in life -- a friend?

Will you be there through the beginning

the middle -- the end?

My friend?