Time-worn tradition begs the color white

Be laid upon a virgin's deathly bed

Untainted with resentment or with spite

The virgin lies with cheeks devoid of red

The procession, black dots on a rainy street

Makes its way to an imagined grave

A final prayer, a song that's far too sweet

She is laid to rest, by god she is saved

Rain falls, alone on the street she lays

Wishing for pearly death, a crisp white dress

Somewhere in the distance a slow dirge plays

And she bottles her tears so she might rest

The song dies, the child cries, and she is sane

Singing acid refrain, not death, just pain