Long gone now, she sleeps in a satin-lined casket, waiting for Jesus
only for a blip on the radar, our friendship disappeared like smoke
not that it matters, at least, maybe, not to her, but what do I know
grass, in the darkness, she told me of her sorrow, belief in grievous
gratuitous harm, she had tried just once before, why me, was it love
only to look back, she was twenty-two years old, tears without a joke
nothing to buffer suffering, even laughter, I sat like a crow
even the darkness could not hide my raven locks, yet, I could not smile
Now, twenty-six years later, and I was five years older, look down from above
of course, now, I laugh, at the idea of heaven, of angels and God
wicked, wicked smile, I know death as the Aztecs ate the beating heart
She was there inside, at home, her car parked outside, I stood like a clod
how, then, could I know that day she would find success, her attempt to part
even now, I cry for her, for myself, for love, stabbed with a nail file
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