Sparkatale

No one mourns the wicked No one cries "They won't return!" No one lays a lily on their grave The good man scorns the wicked! Through their lives, our children learn What we miss, when we misbehave: And Goodness knows The wicked's lives are lonely Goodness knows The wicked die alone It just shows when you're wicked You're left only On your own Yes, Goodness knows The wicked's lives are lonely Goodness knows The wicked cry alone Nothing grows for the wicked They reap only What they've sown Are people born wicked? Or do they have Wickedness thrust upon them? After all, she had A father. She had a mother, as so many do: