It rained that morning in Dealy Plaza

But the sun was out by noon.

How different things might have been

Had that man not died too soon.

If only the roof had still been on

That car the fateful day,

Things might have been so different

With a car top in the way.

But fate laughs at our dreams;

Our plans are but for naught.

And what matter who fired the bullet?

What matters is that it caught.

How different things might have been.

Would King still have his dream?

Would so many have died in a far off place

Where raindrops turn to steam?

We’ll never know what might have been

Nor what could have transpired

Had hist’ry taken a different course

Or had the piece misfired.

And so, fifty years hence

We pause, and we reflect

On that fateful day in Dallas

When the Reaper called, collect.