The darkest night of midnight hour When the bullet shot came near, a hair to fine, and left his ashes burned in time. And now, this frightened eve, Is anxious for his return, And not to grieve? A haunt, A myth? So what it seems? His death, has yet to fall, 6 feet below his dirty feet. His blinded eyes, And yellow teeth. His death above, And life beneath. And to dance, with limber feet, Upon with such a grave. He returns on the tick of tocking tune, When the phantom meets his doom. Happy Hallo's Eve I've missed you not, But buried you deep, And soon to rot. Goodbye and goodnight, My ghostly friend, My troubled fright, of haunted night.
Dead Man Walking
September 1, 2007