I shall beg your lovely eyes
As surely as a sheep is shorn,
The dark blankets of night will arise
I shall mourn my ability to mourn,
We are spirits trapped in bodies
And we never really die.
With great joy and celebrating,
You leave your body behind.
You're older then I may ever be.
You'll go to a better place
Washed clean in a river of peace,
The thought puts a smile on my face
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