She was just out, for her evening run

hair pulled up high, and headphones on;

a car was swerving half a mile away,

he just had a few beers that day,

she was nearly there, halfway home

as she jogged the road alone

his sons in the back, argued back and forth,

on Mountain View Rd, heading north

her thoughts were so far away,

to a different place, a different day

she never even knew her end

as he rounded that treacherous bend,

he jerked the wheel, but it was too late

it was stupidity, it wasn’t fate

Monday morning, the paper read

Fatal wreck, all but one dead

He was drunk, the sons hadn’t survived

And the brown-haired girl wasn’t alive,

It was his call, he made the choice,

never again will he hear his daughter’s voice

(May 15, 2005 - 12:20 AM)