tayo
Her days are race of Mario Jones
Keep the sky close to her clamp
Stop doubt, dawn drew so near
In an obscure June of
Second millennium and five
At 20, crowd fetches tears in bulk
Our shuck, crimson case her earth
Console the, console us, console me
With no huge, she fell for deep sleep
Our tears staged and drama her gone
She has left, while to keep close our company
Use rhythm and rhymed her sweet lyric
Until death shut down our eye
Our parting will see again.