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