Submitted Date 10/14/2019

Follow your fate to the end
I pray it brings you to my grave
Will you my flowers tend
As under dirt I lay

Search for it until you fade
Then my cold fingers will warm
They will ask you for a trade
And your soul will be torn

When the mist lies on hilltops
The breeze will carry a song
Your tears are the raindrops
That cleanse my wrongs

The dew will rise from the earth
And the clouds will hide
You will find what is your worth
When you have tried

Nestled among the valleys
Lay your dreams of all
And here comes the finale
As the last leaf falls

Bury yourself in my grave
Sing your chorus alone
Upon your stone engrave
As shut your mouth is sewn

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  • Rick Doble 4 months ago

    "What did it matter where you lay once you were dead? In a dirty sump or in a marble tower on top of a high hill? You were dead, you were sleeping the big sleep, you were not bothered by things like that. Oil and water were the same as wind and air to you. You just slept the big sleep, not caring about the nastiness of how you died or where you fell. " Raymond Chandler, The Big Sleep