Let the heart sing about his sorrows
with melodies have been long forgotten
And enjoy the blackish view of the birdies
overwhelmed by the crows of the burden
Rhyming sad songs in the middle of the day
and the rhythm is so sweet deep within
Who cares about time's stampede my friend
slowly goes the life, and so later to blacken
Wait afore me, for the coming upheaval
where no life and no death shall intervene
Only a flying soul you shall see in the fly
and a seldom beauty that you've never seen
Amid the mounts and hills, the lakes and rivers
amid the lands of the heart, shining with green
Where I can rest this head with no such worries
and the sleepless eyes shall close against the obscene
Gravatus, my friend, gravatus I do mumble
gravatus for this mind and the thoughts through
The mounts of the blacks weigh heavier now
upon this chest and the breath is inhaled so slow
And I ask when is the day when this dim body
is down and the light above, yet no need for sorrow
Gravatus it is, and gravatus shall be, and so on it is
the eyes are to heaven, and my heart's beats will follow
-
Gravatus: latin: sick or ill.
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