Whilst the Night Rejoices Profound and Still
As we stared beyond the windows there,
Over all the gardens,
That have never been,
And will never grow again,
How long?
How long?
The shining winking stars.
The clouds too high,
So high,
Pointing to some final star,
The dull face of the sky,
And the sound of the calling,
Of the distant village bell,
And all that,
The sun is not enough for us,
Any longer,
And her smile,
Though she wears her hat,
And her cheery rays,
Do not blanket with their glorious glare,
The burning body,
With distorted nimbus,
I see too well,
Just beyond my neighbour's house,
It does not blank out,
The last sigh of the soul,
Whilst the night rejoices profound and still,
At the edge of your street,
Both shadow and destroyer,
But not alas,
The comforter.
1 edit
Originally posted by XanthosNZI blame the inbred pakistanis
[b]Whilst the Night Rejoices Profound and Still
As we stared beyond the windows there,
Over all the gardens,
That have never been,
And will never grow again,
How long?
How long?
The shining winking stars.
The clouds too high,
So high,
Pointing to some final star,
The dull face of the sky,
And the sound of the calling,
Of the distant vi still,
At the edge of your street,
Both shadow and destroyer,
But not alas,
The comforter.[/b]
1 edit
Originally posted by XanthosNZActually, repetition is one of the keys to humour. Once your audience knows something is supposed to be funny, you can use it over and over again.
You never seemed to grasp the central tenant of humour. It supposed to be funny. Repeating the same thing over and over is seldom funny.
For instance:
"I like my woman black and blue."
I can hear them rolling in the aisles now!
Originally posted by XanthosNZIs that original?
[b]Whilst the Night Rejoices Profound and Still
As we stared beyond the windows there,
Over all the gardens,
That have never been,
And will never grow again,
How long?
How long?
The shining winking stars.
The clouds too high,
So high,
Pointing to some final star,
The dull face of the sky,
And the sound of the calling,
Of the distant vi ...[text shortened]... still,
At the edge of your street,
Both shadow and destroyer,
But not alas,
The comforter.[/b]
