in a holy room
she weeps
it is a Blue Sunday,
—don’t you hear her, Jim?

roses weeping
she dances
in the dark
it is pouring
and she is empty
— oh Axl, don’t you see her ?

she hopes she can touch heaven
she feels like gold
her blood is full of it !
dreamy,
oblivious
spiraling
she’s become numb
—Don’t you feel her, Roger?

she tries to find her way to heaven
a new life
but her wings are scarred
— can you get her there, Eric?