Funeral March

I was standing at my window when
A black limousine pulled up
Into the driveway amidst the pouring rain
For the funeral that was being held
Prayers on the lips of everyone
A mask of unfeeling on their faces

The violinist stood there in the rain
Without shelter clothed in red
A sore eye among the normal black
Pulled his strings of sorrow
And danced the crowd to his tune
Puppets on a string

The unseen choir in the corner
Singing melodies of an ominous tune
Looks of glee in their eyes
As I stood and watched

It seems all clear to me
When the pallbearers marched past
Like clockwork soldiers
Because I saw what was inside
Was my very own heart