Croon thy words
In a tune loud.
Wrap me ****
In a white shroud.
Yell thy whine
for my chained soul,
What shall determine
The dead one's parole?
Solace me dear
For death I Fear.
Strange is yet
That All I hear!
Dead one fears
As corse is hurried.
Don't haste to the yard
Where bones are buried!
Since I hear,
Speak to me dear.
As far I am unalive
Azrael won't arrive
And
Speak to me a lie
Until I die.
Monologue of a corse, hearing people's elegies for his death.