Life is a gift, that graces the mother.
Life is a curse, that falls upon another.
The mother hears only that warm beating heart,
The other feels only the cold loneliness apart.
The child grows older, stronger, and free.
His life always full of sweet loving liberty.
His mother looks upon him like a star from above,
Naught in her eyes but passionate love.
The other is always alone in the dark,
This cursed life he lives, leaving it's mark.
He cries out to his mother, in agonizing pain,
But she doesn't see him, it's always the same.
'Til one day he can not take any more,
He sits in the attic after locking the door.
A noose is dangling from the timbers above,
This lonely life he is so tired and sick of.
The kiss of death graces the cold morning air.
The mourning maiden, so beautiful and fair.
'Tis not 'til death, that you appreciate life.
'Tis not 'til death that you're freed from life's strife.
Silver rosepetals fall from the heavenly sky.
That last breath of life departs with a sigh.
Black clothes, so depressing, fill the small service.
All that grief and all that pain was his.
The gentle breeze caresses her tear-stained cheeks.
He's gone forever, pray that he finds what he seeks.
Death is for the completed, and life for the broken.
Those who would argue hear not what's been spoken.