Saint Zombie gets her ring.

By: thepapercult

I saw you at the wedding yesterday and her in lace
Wandering through crowds, so quietly suffocated
He was sitting at the pavement all sad and rejected
Shunning the tables and keeping a straight face

She had to walk like a display case more or less
Though grace was something you couldn't save
That's what I thought when I visited last Sunday
Found Saint something-or-other with an emptied grave

I thought you were strange
As in the sort who stays in and never out
No one sees what your eyes contained
When you were out and about

You sew it up together tight
Thinking they'll never know each other
But the trouble with thinking you're right
Is that truth inevitably becomes a bother

Her eyes looked through you and most likely
Into the other part of the room
It looks like a funeral and I don't say it lightly
There isn't a point bringing in the balloons

Though strangely and quite remarkably I see
Her down the aisle like an automated doll
I wonder with a tiny twinge a flicker of jealously
Whether you cared if I helped you at all