克里歐櫻桃

Stop all the clocks , cut off the telephone ,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone ,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin , let the mourners come .

Let airplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead ,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves ,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves .

He was my North , my South , my East and West ,
My working week and my Sunday rest ,
My noon , my midnight , my talk , my song ;
I thought that love would last forever : I was wrong .

The stars are not wanted now ; put out every one ;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun ;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood ;
For nothing now can ever come to any good .

*From an anonoymous person to Cherry's heart