If today I follow death, 
go down its trackless wastes, 
salt my tongue on hardened tears 
for my precious dear time's waste 
race 
along that promised cave in a headlong 
deadlong 
haste, 
Will you 
have 
the 
grace 
to mourn for 
me?

Will you 
have 
the 
grace 
to mourn for 
me?