(A visit to a dead church)
All around I see the beautiful flowers
But in its beauty there is no life power
Tombstones do not tell the whole tale
I glance at them as I walk the trail
A place of beauty but has lost its wonder
As the people lie six feet under
In the cemetery you may find it strange
But year after year nothing will change
One thing you can know without a doubt
The people won't move, they won't step out
You can play some music and take that chance
But guaranteed here the people won't dance
I hear the bird, I feel the breeze
The branches sway up in the trees
A butterfly emerges from its cocoon
But not one person here rises from their tomb
One can speak, it doesn't matter what is said
Those that call it home still remain dead
I will visit and I can hear the talk
And through this graveyard I will take a walk
Among the graves I might freely roam
But in no way will this ever be my home
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