My mister, Through bliss and hurt don't we miss her? Her hair- silky mist Her eyes- dreary mission wishes her tears, it seemed, had fallen before the march, before this hardship. You carried that torch forever No one cared but her. And now such is blurred earth Until you've become snuffed, wouldn't you be glad to be set fire to? Starry eyes agaze to a blaze of new desire too Much higher High enough.