Tonight I argue with a ghost
As I have done a thousand times
We wrestle as the midnight chimes
For the soul we value most.
"You can't have him, he can't go."
The shadow laughs and shakes his head
And smiles, too bright for one who's dead,
And tells me what deep down I know.
He's always been his father's son
Though I love him as my own.
His choice is made, the gauntlet thrown,
The battle has been lost, and won.
And I pray that in the end
My son won't lay beside my friend.