Looking back on many times,
I am not proud of what we were
Those times remain
Only in memory -
Memory of misdirection,
Hearts of the truest blue -
Memories of me . . .
Memories of you . . .
And true that some may never end,
Though they will never play again.
The truest blues are gone.
What we have is now.
And now . . .
We needn't time to tell.
 
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