My tomb has been discovered

And I have been recovered.

What I believed in has died

And seven thousand birthdays

Can not hide the runaways

Which in my young heart reside.

My tomb, it has been hovered

About by thief and lover.

What I received was the germ

Of Status when they killed

Me and, oh, when they had filled

Me with their poison I learned.

My tomb was my diving bell

And the desert was my Hell.

What I bereaved was my love

For I never had enough

And I still want someone tough

To carry me up above.

My tomb was a bullet shell

And I’ve flown with heat to tell.