It was a sad day
The day the priest walked down the aisle
No one had a word to say
As we watched him suffer his silent trial
His face was pained
His walk was weak with crying staggers
His smiles were fiened
As we saw him stabbed with ghostly daggers
What would he say
What would we do when we were told
He died on a Sunday
And my heart grew very old.
No comments:
Post a Comment