Grand Finale
Livid - the grave
Avid - the slave
Famished - the heart
'Til death do them part...
Chants of weeping tombs caress
A restless corpse - morose and stiff
A thrall - confined to creaking carcass,
Cursed to never dwell on Heights,
Pairs of graves - e'er unnerving,
Gray - the graveyard's dim lights...
Yet mortician is so supple
And 'er hair fragrant and soft.
'er brown eyes -divinely quiet.
'er mild gaze-timid and lost.
Ne'er wilt he touch 'er bossom
As he ne'er did in life,
Ne'er breathe 'er scentful blossom,
Ne'er hold 'er waist so lithe.
Livid - the grave
Angry - the slave
Sizzling - the heart
'Til death do them part...
