Life’s got wings and when blue birds don’t sing…
crows and ravens fill their places.
Dark and clear liquors do flush their glasses,
Ash and decomposition contain the vases,
All good things do meet their;
Agony and blasphemy, cherry-lime and Sherry wines for the pacifists and pessimists standing dressed in equal faded black attire next to the exorcists, behind the extremists, beyond the reassigned coroner fashioned as a priest to profess the inexplicable best of our dearly departed with exemption.
Excerpt this in exception…
“The rise and shine isn’t always the rise and shine.”
– Will read my tombstone.