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As I stand here in front of my closet , starring into space...
I wonder which black dress to wear, and how I am going to face..
All the guests that will be there, at your final resting place...
I look in the mirror and what do I see ?
But cuts and bruises all over me...
Although I don’t feel any physical pain...
Oh, what’s that I hear ?... could it possibly be rain ?
I miss you already...just what went wrong ?.. 
We were driving along , listening to our favorite song...
I remember the curve on that old mountain road...
And then heard the train crash... and then explode...
Time to go called out my Mother...
It was a cold November morning, with very heavy rain...
As I started down the stairs I swear,

I heard the whistle of a train...
And as I looked around the room I could see...
So many friends and family...
Standing in the crowd Aunt Sarah and Uncle Fred...
OMG ! I thought they were dead...
And there’s dear old Michael...
I heard he died...when he crashed his motorcycle...
Suddenly I saw YOU stand...
A bright red rose, you held in your hand...
What are you doing I wanted to shout...
But then I realized what you were about...
You dropped the rose upon MY grave...
It was then I realized... You were the one, that was saved...

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