I know what you did and it ain’t pretty:
it’s slimy, disgusting, cowardly and vain.
It smells of acid and it burns of Cain.
I know what I did: it was sickly, sadistic
impure and inbred with fear, ego-mania and numbness.
But you and I are still worthy of being:
If we don’t take this one remaining chance
this iota of courage that is offered
this tiniest of openings in the heavens
to make things a bit more right
a bit more centered
a bit less crooked and dilapidated…
Come, walk with me one last time,
in the heaven of our distant gardens
Let us celebrate and rekindle
the love we thought was once lost
Let us enumerate the joys of our youth;
And forgive and forget ourselves
for having been so uncouth.