Blue…
Heaven draped around a lad, he knew it was his end
A melancholy unheard by someone who he craved
He cried, he cried, he cried all night for the sweet respite
The lady was nowhere to be seen, she had met her end
A peculiar one she was; always on his head
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Rare as a blue rose, and oh so fiery red!
He seemed to adorn true love, but love was on the bed
Dead and cold and so sublime, he swore she was dead
To accompany her was his last wish
But where? To what end?
Oh my lad, my sad lad
Beckoning to be friends…




