the girl who i love
is sitting in the snow
naked
listening to the smiths
and drowning in the blood
that’s running from her nose

i have the fingers of the thereminist
and heart of the pianist

i’m frightened to die alone
who will kiss the forehead of my corpse
who will choose the tie i’ll be laid to rest
there’s no one who would eat potato salad at my wake
who would write to the newspaper how lovely and caring person i was

the girl who i love
is sitting in the snow
naked
listening to the smiths
and drowning in the blood
that’s running from her nose

i’m looking it from the distance
i have no guts
to go closer
blood will bite

i know that you’re frightened to die alone
but i will always be there for you
if there’s any need to kiss your corpse