The Mausoleum
This is her heart, a mausoleum cold and gray
A silent tomb where dead men lay
Where spring doesn't come nor flowers bloom
This is her heart, a barren tomb

She lies there in silent repose
Waiting for this dark hour to close
A prisoner behind self made gates
Shackled in chains, there she waits

She will wait if for eternity
For love to come and set her free
If she had ears to hear the truth
She would leave that place forsooth

For you see, yourself first you must love
As was instructed from above
So come out from that self made gate
It is for you yourself that you wait.

Copyright © 2004 Lunaria (Lila May Guptill)