O, inject mercury into my veins and
leave me breathless under the sun;
for I am but just a lonesome parasol,
sheltering others yet condemning myself.
The look in your eyes speak greatly so,
but I stare and stare, and embraced you
in the back of my mind, I did over and over.
Now drop the syringe and those forced lies,
carry me home bridal-styled with my braided-hair
with ashen lips, and listen to the wind when it goes.