Cry no tears for us my friend. I pry at her fingers panicking to be released in fear that she may drag me into death with her. She croaks again Lend no aches to the dreams of yesterday. From the corpse of Warren his greyish gums smack from whatever goo has settled in his mouth Allow the tide sweep free the bay. Then together they sing in zombie choir And home the ships sailing send.
Love is a tomato. And while its true that I can live without a tomato I could sure go for some ketchup.