Black Chrismas
Black Christmas.
I was bore while I was young,
My word sound odd but strong,
All match passes with different sooth and charms,
Celebrating the feast of who was known a lamb,
Was it a pleasant thing to see?
Far from my home voices heard all the hills,
My face turns black and fiord,
My heart kissed all my urging part,
A chapel I saw, old and young bent their path,
They dance with mood which change human living,
They all sing a song of jittery,
Death smell their path enclave them in slavery,
The lamb sworn this in total misery,
O ye fatal men the voices of bard cry whelminly,
Come forth thee, faithful thy soul won happily,
Receive my grace of hopeful tomorrow,
Hear to it says the lamb, I will bless thou,
Special among all things, multiple in human thinking.
By Divine Atabod
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