Inanimate Praise

cold has no time, motion has no voice and it has been so long since the stones cried out in the open fields. hardened still cold stones whose only reflection is to bruise all flesh. graveyard vulgar granite lips have little faith. so the eulogy goes something like this. he was always such a good drunk when empty bottles around him went clunk. happy as piss in a jar that is a wishin some raise a bottle others just miss him.