Dear Shane
I write to you from the Mediterrane
Our hotel room overlooks a small island
That has a volcano in the middle of it
Steep dramatic cliffs surround the bay
And I can see the moon in the day
Truth is, I'm tired
Even the sunrise looks old
I don't want to tell you
But you have to be told
Don't take it too hard
Sorry to tell you on a postcard
There's no easy way to say
Your grandfather passed away
Mourn with me
How fickle is the funny side
May seem lower than the lowest tide
But you only touch the hotplate for so long
It's better to become candle wax than to burn on
Besides, he left us in good golfing form
Three days ago he hit five pars
Take care now, love Grandma
And P.S.
Love this life
And P.P.S
Love this life