| He committed to his journal
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| Things so bleak but true
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| That we commit now to the fire
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| O the Lord has taken you
|
| Angels claim thee, Christoph
|
| And bear thee from this earth
|
| May it suffer from thy absence
|
| As it suffered from thy birth
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| How we rue the day You took him, lord
|
| We rend our clothes and cry
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| We gnash our rotten teeth, O Lord
|
| And hurl curses to the sky
|
| Angels claim thee, Christoph
|
| And take thy soul on high
|
| May you fill Saint Peter’s tome with haunted
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| Visions from thy mind
|
| We lay thy body gently
|
| Under weeping cypress tree
|
| And as insects took dominion, Lord
|
| We sang our psalm of thee
|
| Angels claim thee, Christoph
|
| Set thee in the hand of God
|
| May the ashes of thy journal
|
| Like your body, reek and rot
|
| Angels claim thee, Christoph
|
| And bear thee from this earth
|
| May it suffer from thy absence
|
| As it suffered from thy birth |