The girl that died and went to heaven, had lied to me I’m certain.
For she swore her love was tougher than times, and crimes that went unspoken.
And here she lies, a somber rest, this, oh I detest, how she lied and upon her breast,
I placed a blade, and here she stays, away from all the rest.
All those men who once again, forgot that she existed.
For in their minds she was mine, and so she was cremated.
From grief of loss, the stone with moss, I placed my hand upon.
She loved this stone, she would come alone, and she’d sit until dawn.
But my sweet pet, she did not fret, always so carefree.
For still her love, I hear from above, she never loved me wholly.
Those other men that made her grin, a smile pretty like a dove.
Oh, but I love, and in love with her love, but she’s above, help me.
And I can see, if she’d dream of me, I’d be oh so happy,
But these men, I count again, the girl, she had three.