Accident

Once upon a late night morning
you were treading for the news
tempting our little humble street
to be a scene without warning
worthy of our little humble pews
all the neighbors there will meet
old gossip drowns out the mourning
only drowned out by the blues
"Amen!" and we're on our feet
there is a better use for mornings
than to stare at your pale hues
the sunshine outside twice as sweet
as the temple's little humble warnings
taught by a jew killed by the jews
"Come on, people, let's go eat,
and drown all these sour mournings,
in a high ball glass of liquid muse!"
And up we all go back on our feet,
there is a better use for mornings,
even in depressing funeral shoes,
tempting our little humble street