A bitter taste known to eyes and lips
Drawn from the song of the widow's kiss
Roses pinned to bare lapels
The sky cries with them
Lost in the midst of a siren's song
Beauty at a glance but sorrow futher down
Ship lost at sea will no longer return to thee
A pyre is lit for those forgotten
Salt soaked waves lap at the shore
A bought of fog where they shone through
Their song is over, said and done
So why do we hear them?
And why do they tell us to run?