I see them, as they were at seventeen: 
Two, joined together, always, everywhere. 
On school or church trips, sort of just one body, 
If you saw her, you knew he would be there -- 

But like an illness, sometimes, love just passes, 
The constant soon becomes a memory, 
And "they" are long-forgotten, save at moments, 
When I'm back here at home, and 

She's with me