Anna

Deep was the wetness of that night,

a woman robbed her man of his pride.

Rumor spread and fight was looming,

The town envied, disapproving.

 

Whatever she did, she loved the thrill.

Tenderness, love and the silent chill.

All those things that make your will disappear.

 

In life we pay the price,

For mindless lovemaking and farce.

In death, cowardness is shunned,

Making God and his angels laugh.

 

So on the judgment day, they will tell you that,

Trains don’t come for those insane or mad.

Anna was not the one who died,

Indeed – she left timeless passion behind.

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