You were the seal of perfection;
the roses bow to your direction
North in it's far reaching
in it's pure and stainless preaching
it's impassable protection.

There's a mountain in a painting
where I knew you would be waiting
if I could get far enough out of my mind
to see again the emerald shine

of the stones in your City of sensory bliss
carted away through the centuries
The star in the sky of your eternal rest
the mists of the death that you sang to me