Now listen to an anecdote that's starved of any joy
A tragic tale of accidents about a little boy
He died one day because a bullet soared right through his brain
Black ash was on his fingertips no signs of foul-play
His wish was that they'd send him off, and that is what they did
With covers of white silk a once strong body now placid
They wept they cried they moaned in pain, but not because he died
Their sorrow lay with where they thought his soul would now reside
In life he was a sinner, for in his heart he loved
To be a wicked naughty boy not bound to his betrothed
They sent him to the altar, the woman by his side
He spurned her love on that sad day, his vows he did deny
Let us take a moment to say thanks to his family for providing such tasty treats at his funeral service
Because when you have a relative that sins it's important to keep up your appearances
And this boy was a sinner in everything that he ever did!
He rejected help, he would not turn from what he thought was true
Love is love, he'd always say, I guess that love was you
Of course we know that he was wrong, we hate those of his kind
But this one died, so I guess in the end it's just fine.
No comments:
Post a Comment