Row upon row, of
tombstones & grey graves,
In drawers &
niches, in neat rows & in waves,
The metropolis
of the dead, in old cemetery town,
Interred &
stored the king, the pauper & the clown.
Not for the
town´s people, the strange burial places,
Without names on
stones, they can´t show their faces,
Not for them,
the Pyramid, the Henge, nor top of a tree,
Where their
souls are released & allowed to roam free.
Freshly packed
side by side, all the sinners & the saints,
Neatly aligned
in numbers, not to tarnish eyes, nor taint,
When I am dead
& gone, please inter me within blue skies,
Let my ashes fly
away free, where all the eagles soar & rise.
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