On a sheet forever I want to lay,
With your scent or your words surrounding me.
Coming undone under your pen or fingertips.
My hair you'd pull like the quill you grip.
Holding me down by the throat
As you cut me open using verses and rhymes.
Paint my heart with its vertues and vices.
And once my corpse in a grave will rot
If birds in heaven still fly, and men on earth live,
Those words shall bring me back and forever I'll be.
