• HAH! He would say, as he looked on the day
    as the moments passed beyond him
    Little old Reynold would find games to play
    to keep all the children from crying.
    He was so kind and gentle, funny of wise
    he brought the sunniest of days to the childhood wonderland
    Who on this Earth could take him away,
    and destroy all of those bright and shining days
    in which little old Reynold would show off his smile
    and bring those in pain out of their denial

    It was a shining memory in the faces of time
    the one little spark of the flame
    Little old Reymond looked out at the day
    and said “it is going to rain”
    everyone laughed as the clouds disappeared
    the day pressed on
    all the more he did fear.
    One little step to his final crime
    the poor little Reynold was about to die.

    Each second traversed through the passage of time
    as the sky absorbed the fury of the sun.
    But as these moments passed them all by,
    the engine was beginning to run.
    Wishes would tell that the pain that was felt
    was the prelude to tender creation
    of the once know friend of the monstrous trend
    that was sown with ridiculous patients.

    One more song he would sing that day
    as the beautiful wonderland continued to play
    Feeling the passage of his constant beat
    as the sound of his cold and naked feet
    ceaselessly drumming upon his most feared objection
    the voyage through the Earth’s crust
    the vibration continued to sink into the sand
    and revolved through the dirt and the dust.

    His one last song, as the beats passed him by
    and the sound of his feet subsided
    all those around him began to cry
    As he lay there slowly dying
    humming himself his last farewell
    as the tone of the story begins to tell
    the prelude to the most guarded fear
    as death approached him far too near.
    So here he lay, in his hospital bed
    With metal machines attached to his head
    The disease he was given had spread.

    The children continued to play that day
    as the rain washed all the pain away
    the tap of their feet marching cold on the ground
    would travel the Earth with the speed of the sound
    of poor Little Old Reynold’s last caring tone
    of the beeping machine that sang his last song