I have become Gertrude - that old widow
I keep men close, you're still a fresh corpse.
You might be mourning me but maybe you won't.
I don't do it out of desperation, or love gone wrong
I do it because I gotta move on

And I've got a hole yearning to be filled
And I discovered, there was no hole in reality
It hurts, sometimes it really does
It's your judgement chastising my existential lust
You try to punish me because I am alive
Was Gertrude such a *****? Or did she already cry enough?
Is Gertrude in her room with her hand below
I am the *****, the unsensitive one - for once
You hurt me much! I had to get my life back!
You died, it's true - you killed it with your hand