The aisle it was long and dark, garbage cans kept the watch The chapel walls were old and lined and the streetlamp lit its mouth The altar was the lesser half of an old forgotten couch. The bride stumbled nervously, a box fell in her flight She cursed her trusting foolishness for leaving the sanctuary of the light A crumbled linen handkerchief, a little girl's fright. The groom followed slowly and the wine dripped from his chin Panting that the holy doors would part and let him in His candle burned with whiteness, stiff and violent. The sound of breath in darkness gave away the bride His eyes said: 'I am the body' - and her's said: 'I am the blood' And as the candle pushed below, exploding wax and fear The handkerchief fell from her hands and as usual there were tears.