Above her marbled frame the incense burns;
her wretched death has made our souls to yearn
she have but one more moment,

Here we march the grey parade
and see the final bed we made
the flowers stink so sticky-sweet
the slow goodbye almost complete

The

A beautiful funeral,
all attendees agree.
No need to be sad,
now her spirit is free

The mass of mourners
Funneled through the open door
There is not enough room
For the grief that they share

Traffic is backed

Like a light that flickered when loved ones were near
An absence well noticed by those that are dear
That knowing that someone