Don’t cry for me;
I’ve done the best I could.
I dug my hole;
Just like you would.
Although the spade was heavy, the Ace came up first.
Although the hunger grew, I gave in to my thirst.

Don’t drink my blood;
As it drips into crystal flutes.
Died on my cross;
Underneath heavy, hobnailed boots.
Don’t cry your tears, for the salt burns my wounds.
Atmospheres away on our cold pitiful dunes.

Don’t touch my flesh;
It ruins the way that it crawls.
Leaving footprints;
In my souls rubble-strewn halls.
Mockingbird voices call form Mockingbird tongues.
Severed and bleeding underneath Imperial thumbs.

Don’t hear my words;
They will just tear you apart.
A thousand sharpened letters,
Designed to penetrate your cold heart.
So don’t you dare cry for me with you snake’s eyes.
And leave me my peace to ascend to my tempest tossed skies.