| Everyone knows that Cancer
 | 
| Takes bites of every family
 | 
| And it eats up families whole
 | 
| Dance around the issue
 | 
| Take issue with the answers provided
 | 
| The past few years radiate with treatment
 | 
| But to every day she’ll put her cap on and greet them
 | 
| She’s got demons, but you’ll never meet them
 | 
| Yeah we hope one day that she can finally beat them all
 | 
| She laughs for us
 | 
| She laughs, so we don’t worry
 | 
| She smiles through the pain
 | 
| And keeps the details blurry
 | 
| My intentions are not to expose
 | 
| The depths of her trouble aren’t mine to disclose
 | 
| But like evening rain on the petal of a rose
 | 
| It drips down to the earth and begins to compose
 | 
| And if there’s one thing that remains
 | 
| So crystal clear to us
 | 
| It’s that the wandering hands of the gods
 | 
| Are so goddamn mysterious
 | 
| Like there could be a justification
 | 
| For the lives, it takes and the lives that it’s taken
 | 
| This isn’t a eulogy
 | 
| Or a requiem
 | 
| Just some words I’ve sketched out
 | 
| Cause I haven’t said them
 | 
| This isn’t about her father or brother
 | 
| Just a few simple words so she knows that I love her
 | 
| And tragedy will never disaffect her
 | 
| I hope she knows how much I respect her
 | 
| My intentions are not to expose, in verse or in prose
 | 
| The depths of her troubles aren’t mine to disclose
 | 
| But like evening rain on the petal of a rose
 | 
| It drips down to the earth and begins to compose
 | 
| A song worth singing
 | 
| A wound that keeps on stinging
 | 
| And one sinking feeling
 | 
| That’s always worth clinging onto
 | 
| And a stone in a glass house
 | 
| That’s always worth slinging
 | 
| She laughs for us
 | 
| She laughs, so we don’t worry
 | 
| She smiles through the pain
 | 
| And keeps the details blurry
 | 
| My intentions are not to expose
 | 
| The depths of her trouble aren’t mine to disclose
 | 
| But like evening rain on the petal of a rose
 | 
| It drips down to the earth and begins to compose
 | 
| Saints walk the earth
 | 
| They don’t patrol the skies
 | 
| They’re the people right behind you
 | 
| Riding tandem through the night
 | 
| It’s the comfort that’s discovered
 | 
| Between two sets of eyes
 | 
| It’s the hand that stills the other
 | 
| That shakes like candlelight
 | 
| Like candlelight |