The ones who walk beside us,
Whose prints march with ours,
The ones that guide us,
Through our darkest hours,
Not the family or the friends,
That walk their own roads,
But the others on the way,
Who gladly share our loads,
The family and friends,
Who love us whole and part,
The ones who walk beside us,
Are family of the heart,
And though the path is marked with graves,
And strewn with bitter tears,
Heart-friends, strong and brave,
Will always come again,
Though we cannot always see,
The road that lies ahead,
They wait to walk with you and me,
These always faithful friends.