quinta-feira, 11 de outubro de 2012

The funeral

The son was sad
The daughter went mad
The mom cried, breathed in deeply and fell on the ground

The raven wearing its black elegant suit
Was standing, staring at every moment of that morning
While someone else was moaning

The son still cries
The daughter became angry
The mom was still lying on the grass beside the grave

The raven in a black feather coat
Was standing, staring at everyone
Wearing those pathetic black clothes

The son still cries
The daughter was turning into insanity
The mom was taken away

The raven wearing a perfect black crush hat
Was standing, staring at all those fools
And watching the gravedigger disappear beyond the hills

The son had stopped his cry
The daughter was finally hysterical
The mom was declared really dead

The raven rose from the tree, above the grave
Took a brief flight over everyone at that funeral
And landed on an old rotten log

The mom was really gone
The daughter finally got crazy
The son, the son… yes,
He said to the raven:
Let’s go my friend,
Who didn’t notice you
Doesn’t understand life
Doesn’t understand that we’re like grass
Waiting for a reaper,
The Grim Reaper that owns you’

The raven took another brief flight
Till the shoulder of the son
Meanwhile the coffin was buried
And the grave was sealed,
The mom was taken to a morgue
And the daughter sent to Arkham.

Probably now she’s having some fun with Joker.

And don't ask about who was dad...
It doesn't matter : now he's buried and...
He's The dead!

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