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