Nice

Oh, tis’ so nice,
This summer day.
The fresh mown grass
The smell of hay.

Tis’ so nice
To be with you.
To see your face.
Slowly turn blue.

Tis’ so nice,
Your choking sounds.
As my hands hold you.
And you slowly drown.

Tis’ so nice.
The bells of death.
I have stolen away.
Your sacred last breath.