To hell with mourning!

The devil shall have a feast on tears

and brew strong wine of loss and fears to feed

the one’s who sold their soul

in apathy on idle coals

in cowardice and meek despair

bemoaning what is past repair

And get them drunk on their own spit until

they choke and must admit that

Mourning is a waste of time as long as

Life has words to rhyme has

Seas to sail and stones to turn with

beating hearts that wildly churn