Here I stand in a place, where the flowers gently sway,
Lit by the moon's radiant face, is a place where I like to stay.
But even the moon's shining glow, can't keep back the terribie memories,
of where my father had to do so long ago.
Gone away, gone away, never to come home, he paid to a deed that was not
meant for him, leaving me alone.
Now many years have past, I stand in my home where I now sleep, where I have
a team.
Don't get me the wrong way, I'm not the type who moans, But to me, I thinh it's
only proper, to think about my lost father.
Gone away, gone away, never to come back no more.
The only relatives I have left, are my coison and my uncle, but to me, I have a
bit more family, in the comrades I've come to know.
But mid the grief and kinship, the only thing I can concude,
is that in spite of my perilous past, I feel a unknowm sence of
gratitude.