The Mark of the Good Things That Pass

Oh, when you were sick, you knew I would care
I stayed by your bedside
I stayed beside, like
Until you awaken
And maketh me free
I couldn't regret it, I couldn't deny it
Before, you have told me that good things do burn
And their fire is frozen
And their fire held up
In between crops
Each one can see
That good things are things
And good things are chosen
So, now you have told me that I will burn too
And become the ash
From which we all grew
I couldn't regret it
I couldn't deny it
So here lies the mark of the good things that pass