Chau, Donald

We’re steeped in sorrow,
my friends and I,
and reason doth protest
For our childhood friend
has said goodbye
and gone to his final rest

The sun comes up
the sun goes down
and somewhere in between
We catch a glimpse of who we are
and who we've always been

Now come we to this cul-de-sac
beneath a saddened sky
Where thoughts of Donald take me back
to days in Uruguay