All the friends I had worked my whole life making
Will be strangers for I couldn't keep them.
No one will recognise my name on the radio
For I spent all my days alone in isolation.
...
We grew up with stone cold hearts
In the dark alleys, away from shine
Learning all the selfish ways
Vocabulary filled with I, me, mine
...
Don't bring me a fire
Because I'll grow cold again
Don't light my world
It will hurt my dilated pupils
...
If you burry me in Cow-Boy
Eventually people will build over my grave.
If you burry me in 'my village'
...
If love's a crime
Then I have committed a horrendous iniquity,
I do deserve to be put on death row.
...
If my darling's the rose:
Beautiful, mellow, and full of nourishment
Then I'm the prickles of the rose:
Barbed, repugnant, and unpleasant.
...
How many have had what you and I shared?
The longevity, trust, perils and troubles;
In exams, tests, and all inking duties
You stood by me.
...
There's Historians in my heart
There's a government too
A well founded government.
It's not powerful, but it thrives
...
Born at home in winter. God put inside a soul so full of loneliness, emotion, love and decreed that my only cure from the constant pains of life will be potent fosages of heart warming (heart wrenching at times) literature.)
Mine Will Be A Lonely Funeral
All the friends I had worked my whole life making
Will be strangers for I couldn't keep them.
No one will recognise my name on the radio
For I spent all my days alone in isolation.
My mother will be crying.
In the morning, it will probably be dry and empty
The heavens will not mourn my demise.
A solitary car will carry my wretched pine box
Moving sluggishly and followed by a miniature crowd.
My sister will weep painfully.
They will form a small procession
And one by one they will peer into my pine box
To witness my cold pallid countenance firsthand.
I will lie still and cold and will not be able to respond.
My niece will break down.
My brother will most probably be a successful man then.
He will love me with a tender brotherly love
But he will have a lot of responsibilities and ends to tie
So he'll be only starting his long journey home when all this happen.
My brother will mourn for me.
My mother will say a few words of affection
And they will be heavily punctuated by sobs and tears.
My 1 or 2 friends will say something too
About how I wasn't as dense as I appeared.
My few friends will miss me.
They will lower my pine box into my dreaded sepulchre
And the pastor will have his share of words to say
But he'll just do it for the Lord for he will not have known me.
Dirt will begin to pile up - terrifying darkness upon solid darkness.
My family will lament my passing.
The days will pass and the winds of time will blow me away.