I would like to have known
My mother when we were seventeen
And my father when we were
Eight or nine when we still
Had a chance to be friends
Or at least in the same class together
The mystery of parents
Is that we owe them everything
But when my daughter was born
I felt it was the other way around
And when her mother died
It was for myself I cried
I saw it was never about me
That I could be so honored
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