Dear ShanenI write to you from the MediterranenOur hotel room overlooks a small islandnThat has a volcano in the middle of itnnSteep dramatic cliffs surround the baynAnd I can see the moon in the daynTruth is, I'm tirednEven the sunrise looks oldnI don't want to tell younBut you have to be toldnnDon't take it too hardnSorry to tell you on a postcardnThere's no easy way to saynYour grandfather passed awaynMourn with mennHow fickle is the funny sidenMay seem lower than the lowest tidenBut you only touch the hotplate for so longnnIt's better to become candle wax than to burn onnBesides, he left us in good golfing formnThree days ago he hit five parsnTake care now, love GrandmannAnd P.S. nLove this lifenAnd P.P.SnLove this life