There rests a small village on the edge of town,
It's a humble town, that doesn't make a sound.
It has existed since before the Civil War,
And it's presence you can not ignore,
These proud people, embracing the ground.
2000 members, brought together by a common fate,
A union, a camaraderie, the living chose to create.
I have been a visitor, the site quite pretty,
But now the visitor has come home to Silent City,
My grave is open, and I am received, and further referred to as "late".
