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Here is the tale, it's spoken word-for-word, it may be abominable, but, yes it must be heard. |
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Nauseating at first, you can expect the worst, so listen closely, as the plot unfolds... |
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I might stretch the truth, may be a little lie, there was a boy named |
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Brad, he played trumpet, and he died. |
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Too young for him to cease, |
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Why? We haven't got a clue, |
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It's on the internet, so then it must be true. |
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The untimely death of |
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Brad, how sad it must have been. |
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If you see him anywhere, remember to console him. |
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I curse the day, |
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I ever met the boy, |
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Only the good die young, they say. |
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The details of his death are vague unbelievable it seems, as if his passing was only a dream. |
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Catastrophe, calamity, what will we tell his mother now? |
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Cataclysmic, a tragic mishap, |
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I just heard that their band is breaking up. |
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I hear his trumpet, his voice rings in my ears, it sometimes seems he's standing very near. |
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I don't believe in ghosts, |
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I've never seen one, but isn't the trumpet playing haunting on this album? |
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A day that lives in infamy, in horror we behold, his passing, his memory, but the truth must be told. |
