A GRAVEYARD GREY

Down in the graveyard
No comfort can be found
Anger sits upon the headstones
Even silence still's it's sound

Here, god stands on his sentry
post
A gun aimed straight at me
Here, the angels turn a graveyard
grey
Then run away... they flee...

just me and god then, god's
alone but me I have my ghosts,
and they gather now in the
perfect storm, disembodied
mass in the deadmans form,
and I see god stutter in his pleas
to utter and his gun is shaking
cos his gun is fake, and he has
no answers cos there are no
answers and he has no answers
cos there's none to make
and I have no questions cos it's
far too late yes, it's far too late
cos you'll never wake
Again

M P 11/11/21