I still remember my granddad's faded blue levis, they must have been his favourite jeans,

 

The wearing of which saw so many nights, pissed away like most of his dreams, 

 

At the TV In his chair I still see him laughing,

 

In his death bed laughing I see him dying,

 

I still see his daughter trying, to come to terms with the facts but she's lying,

 

She says that she remembers me flying. 

 

14 years later to the day I can say that my faded blue jeans look exactly the same. 

 

The same TV, the same shows, the same highs, the same lows,

 

The same desperate decisions I'm unable to make, the same facts in fiction still unable to take,

 

A fresh yet haunted glow etched on my face,

 

A memorial memory still very much in place.