Tell me a story and tell it well,
for I hunger for words, I heard,
so many years ago. Words of terror,
words of praise. Telling stories of
the brave souls, who paved the way,
for all of us.
How they lived and how they died.
Even the failures that did reside,
within the walls, so dark.
Unable to keep the love, that grew,
when all the World, did know.
Yet, you kept on but not for long,
as the candle wick ran out of
tallow and fell into the shadow
of a moonless night, with only
Stars to guide your way.
You became impatient and said
of their last refrain.
My mind spews out this
awaits the kind of life,
with no tomorrow,
that will end with abject sorrow.
What to do, oh what to do,
for in one's death
there will be no more you.