Sword and crown are worthless here.
I invite everyone to dance.
Laborers, lawyers, church, and gown,
all make their little prance.
Men and women, young and old,
reject my prophet hand.
I don't implore them, nor ignore them.
I firmly take my stand.
This life is full of random deaths.
And heaps of grief and shame.
So few are soothed by 'accident',
you want someone to blame.
Fire, plague, and strange disease,
drowned, murdered, or, if you please,
a long fall down the basement stairs.
None are expected, no one cares.
I know the steps so very well,
all must learn my little dance.
Families may die and loved ones cry,
but no one is left to chance.
I often must work very hard,
sweat running down my skin.
After the dance, I then must rest,
and the eating can begin.
Word of warning: I've got a job interview in an hour and twenty.
Will try and keep up on my phone on my way over and back now that I've got one that can actually surf the net.
What if there’s no better word than just not saying anything?

jean pierre polnareff