Tied to the top of the tallest rocket,
Left out to lie in the stars:
This is the way that the Fraught and the Dying,
Become Perfect, Pure, and Ours.

You are the God of the Living Forever,
I am the Lord of the Dead,
Look at me side-long and tell me you lost me,
While I hand you my head.

Dance you and dandle a platter of silver,
I'll happily hand you my knife,
We'll tango and two-step the dances macabres--
Oh, I want you to be my Wife!

<<agé chose>>

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