And when you died how I trod and tried to find you
In every inch of sky
But how track you down in the clouds, O how remind you
How to be with you tonight?
And by the by I’ll see
Through her newfound opacity
As this butterfly will Her Majesty
Come to me
A Stockholm syndrome victim,
A camoufleur stowed in the wings
O this mockingbird, well it don’t sing
But it sang for me
Should I clip my wings? dip the feathers into ink
To pen her a letter on sight?
When nectar you drink, hard to remember what to think
To get her to recognize
Now I don’t mind the seraphim
Or all the nights she shares with Him
But bide my time for the angel grim
To come for me
Don’t bother cry, don’t you weep
Those crocodile tears, you see
I’ve got a bottle of whiskey
To comfort me
And by the by I’ll see
The wildest nights could ever be
But there’s not a volume of whiskey
Can comfort me
I’d break the doors between
I’d pace the floors for eternity
I’d wage a war would Her Majesty
Remember me
There’s not a volume of whiskey
Can comfort me