Upon my casket
Posted: 18 Nov 2018, 22:46
7 feet under,
A wooden cross above,
The one you had chosen,
It's rotting my love.
Your roses lay withering,
Crying,
Wishing I'd wake up,
I don't hear your footsteps anymore,
Perhaps now your tears have dried up.
- I'll too stop listening.
A wooden cross above,
The one you had chosen,
It's rotting my love.
Your roses lay withering,
Crying,
Wishing I'd wake up,
I don't hear your footsteps anymore,
Perhaps now your tears have dried up.
- I'll too stop listening.