When your beard fell out, coloring the bathroom sink in doubt
I told you you could rock a mustache
Well I lied, but you tried it anyway

When your hair turned white overnight, it looked just like the moonlight
I didn't tell you that it was a sign
Of the color we were soon to lose

Is it raining? Did I dream that too?
Is it fading? I don't want it to
Am I waiting for a sign from you?
Is it coming? Is it all confused?

Now the leaves turn brown and scatter on the concrete coated ground
And people somehow find this charming
There is beauty in the color palette of demise

The day after you died I found your hair on my shirt by surprise
I remembered that I trimmed your beard
So you'd feel clean or something, I don't know