By Cort LaCasse
Only we in shallow grave will know When comes first, naught but snow, We find ourselves, on beggar’s ground See the circle, but do not come ‘round He lies waiting, not for you, but me Upon a promise kept, from a malevolent dream When those who’ve vacated have truly forgotten When we who lie here have become truly rotten Then and then only will we sleep in peace When we’ve known each other in a true embrace We then find ourselves, within a crease One forgotten, one we’ve yet to face
