The End of Time
My father’s hands
Toiled in time
Red lines and scars
Left a story to be told
A life of sorrow
Or perhaps of glory
Only the man
Can tell the story
But he is gone now
And I can’t read his palms
He lies in rest
Or so they say
A body that carried the soul
Is but an empty shell
To be put to rest
Six feet under
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
In that grave
We do trust
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