Sorrowful was the body of the lonely man,
he was so blank, so unable and feeble.
The moon, who saw him for hours, was
shining thus strong that the body looks
like December's first snow; It was,
in fact, he was chilly and the mist too;
The Bing Ben performed for him, while
the hangman raised his body and the
elderly widows cried for his soul.
"Pray for him", said the priest.
I prayed for that man, who was lonely,
and my heart couldn't believe it.
He was my father, who was kind
and stern, and evil too. Something started,
was the rain which baptised his body,
and something ended, was my fear
to see him again.
he was so blank, so unable and feeble.
The moon, who saw him for hours, was
shining thus strong that the body looks
like December's first snow; It was,
in fact, he was chilly and the mist too;
The Bing Ben performed for him, while
the hangman raised his body and the
elderly widows cried for his soul.
"Pray for him", said the priest.
I prayed for that man, who was lonely,
and my heart couldn't believe it.
He was my father, who was kind
and stern, and evil too. Something started,
was the rain which baptised his body,
and something ended, was my fear
to see him again.