The Feast of St. Stephen - Matt Elliott

I would die with a smile upon my face

With no complaints

As tranquil as a saint

This world would be transformed from a world of pain

To somewhere sane

My eyes would shine again

But you don’t love me…

And I would have died with a smile upon this weary face

With calm & grace

With nothing left to state

& I my love would have whispered sweet songs in your ears

I’d have sang for years

We’d have danced away the fear

But you don’t love me…