A box with five walls made of stone. Warm rain pours down on the corpse of a man. Six dead at sundown victims of a sucide, we cry tonight for the friend we lost, a poem fourteen years in the making dreading the day we would say goodbye, scared to love but afraid to be alone, once bitten twice shy our hearts knew this adding a tale as old as time but as we healed you, you healed me but forever was never meant to be.
A corpse in a coffin of five stone walls, lukewarm rain reminds the souls within that this is not the end, hark what yonder beauty calls? Tis the angel of death asking why we are here, why are we here? Any of us how can six souls with such defined purpose be so lost without a friend of fourteen years.
A room with five stone walls a woman sits within, icy rain pours down the drain as six minds snap. Dancing on a razors edge forget the voices that are not our own speak we must to the walls of stone.
And as a Admirable Brave Pure Morning Lord is born we say goodbye to the best friend a girl could ask for. My dear sweet Coconut.
