My famous last words
Are laying around in tatters
Sounding absurd whatever I try
But I love you and that's all that really matters
If this is good bye
If this is good bye
Your bright shining sun
Would light up the way before me
You were the one made me feel I could fly
And I love you whatever is waiting for me
If this is good bye
If this is good bye
Who knows how long we've got
Or what were made out of
Who knows if there's a plan or not
There is our love, I know there is our love
My famous last words could never tell the story
Spinning unheard in the dark of the sky
But I love you and this is our glory
If this is good bye
If this is good bye
If this is good bye
If this is good bye
Are laying around in tatters
Sounding absurd whatever I try
But I love you and that's all that really matters
If this is good bye
If this is good bye
Your bright shining sun
Would light up the way before me
You were the one made me feel I could fly
And I love you whatever is waiting for me
If this is good bye
If this is good bye
Who knows how long we've got
Or what were made out of
Who knows if there's a plan or not
There is our love, I know there is our love
My famous last words could never tell the story
Spinning unheard in the dark of the sky
But I love you and this is our glory
If this is good bye
If this is good bye
If this is good bye
If this is good bye
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A San Francisco husband slept through his wife's call from the World Trade Centre. The tower was burning around her, and she was speaking on her mobile phone. She left her last message to him on the answering machine. A TV station played it to us, while it showed the husband standing there listening. Somehow, he was able to bear hearing it again.We heard her tell him through her sobbing that there was no escape for her. The building was on fire and there was no way down the stairs. She was calling to say goodbye. There was really only one thing for her to say, those three words that all the terrible art, the worst pop songs and movies, the most seductive lies, can somehow never cheapen. I love you.
She said it over and again before the line went dead. And that is what they were all saying down their phones, from the hijacked planes and the burning towers. There is only love, and then oblivion. Love was all they had to set against the hatred of their murderers.
Ian McEwan - The Guardian, 15 September 2001