There was a vicar from Crewe
Whose congregation were few
To make amends he brought in his hens
And they all lined up on a pew

Then he compiled an avian choir
(For the singing voice of the hens was dire
And the only song the cockerel knew
Was ****-a-doodle-do)

The church fell silent as we heard
The Lord is my Shepherd from the minor bird
The vicar invited us to pray
And we got the Lords Prayer from the African grey

There followed a rendition of psalm thirty four
Performed without fault from the tenor macaw
The parakeets squawked and scratched their fleas
As they jumped up and down on the ***** keys

The vicar was thrilled it was going so well
The geese gave a honk as they pulled on the bell
But then there appeared right at the back
An evil sparrowhawk poised to attack

Calamity reigned inside the church
The African grey fell off his perch
The first to escape was the tenor macaw
As fast as he could through the open door

The chickens shrieked and went home in a flap
The minor bird had a heart attack
The geese walked away back to their pen
And the church fell silent once again

Too beautiful to be ashes.  

I felt jealous. I placed a flower in your casket and wept.

You had the courage to finish and they say those who do so are weak. But they don't understand how it feels to have a rope around your neck and a chair under your feet.

I admire you, but I wish you wouldn't have done it. But I understand how you needed to end your pain because it multiples the more you covet.

Your smile was a painting but I saw the pain in your eyes. And it's okay, Mona Lisa...I understand the pain you've disguised.

I know you didn't mean for us to hurt you just needed to end yours, but now  I'll always be afraid of what's behind silent doors...Mona Lisa.

No words. "Hang in there."
No words. Hanging there...

...Mona Lisa.

If I'm unlucky enough, I'll be lucky enough to see you in a little while.

Until then...smile, Mona Lisa.

Smile.

I walk hand in hand by myself
We chat and never say a word
The two of us simply coexist
You can't see what or how we fit
Or who is in charge of it
What you see is but a mask
Beneath a rage of wills
Keep on taking pills
Then off to sleep
So let's guess
Who will drive tomorrows mess.