The funeral of hearts

The funeral of hearts

The black coats the crowd, like a moth to a flame,
And there's a schoolboy shuddering, looking for someone to blame.
There's a mass of people gathering, with the agenda hidden,
But here comes the awaited, and the black horses ridden.

So march on, don't step out of line,
Follow the beat, but don't get out of time.
Sing the hymns, with your dreary monotony,
But the personality changes, undergoing lobotomy.

Throw the flowers, and see them tidily scattered,
Notice the thinning faces, and the individuality battered.
But the greying graves, ring their destiny's call,
The spring shoots, they show the stupidity of it all.

And the coffin advances, strolling to the tune of tears,
But the progression shows the idiocy of fears.
And as the succession proceeds, the remains depart,
The horde prepares to say goodbye as they bury their hearts