It's lisa, or laura, i know not her real name
Which is probably pretty or something the same
With her i spoke under, and lived under fed
Without her i hang now, without her instead

We die many times, and each new infancy
Is a surprise ; that i have the tendencey
To look over when it suits me, and decry when not
When i am sailing, or when things go well

Where this vision of death comes, she always leaves
And i bury my head in my billowy sleeves
To marvel at how i must face my own fate
Or deny it, more likely, until it's too late

When i could have kept on at her, with her, inside of her
Instead of letting her weakness successfully hide her
Her weakness and mine, the death of us both
I was more violent, and she was more loath

To see in me a promise of what i could give
And i to see in her a reason to live
Which was past just a symbol of woman and luck
That i would never be lacking for something to fuck

And one to fuck over when things would decide
That it was once again time to go for a ride
We felt we must seize the weather, and never the whim
To be led by the other and not the whithin