Death In Paradise

The sorrowful streets are empty

the books are missing pages

the leaves are flitting ferociously

and the fountain's been out for ages

 

All the homes are abandoned

the funiture, no plants, no love

in fact all that's left here,

is a tiny one-winged dove

 

We are afraid to return

scared something will overturn

the bones are left so scattered

leaving's all that mattered

 

What once was a great chrome city

has off and rolled it's dice

now its a ghost town

with a death in paradise.