My immortal heart is beating,
Merrily playing its tune,
Sounding out a Glass-like rhythm,
From high above the moon.

But down below my mothers tears are falling,
Spilling on my chest,
For my mortal heart has ceased its melody,
Before I gave that earthly life my best.

My immortal heart is beating,
Merrily playing its tune,
But my funeral is busy,
Playing The March too soon.