Yesterday I kept feeling tender toward myself. Time after time I’d find tears in the eyes I see with washing my vision clean as to what will endure. Before I closed those eyes to sleep I rededicated my life to good. It will not matter how I am buried – casket, cremation, charioted away in the whirlwind. It will only matter how you remember me, and I cling to dumb hope you’ll swear I was a good man.