Life After Life

I still care about Christian

Does he care about me?

When I see him around he looks down,

afraid of what he’ll see

And I know there’s a heaven

that he’s trying to find

But it’s hell that he makes, callous and afraid

of the ones he’s left behind

And the touch of his body, so tender and cruel,

when he made me play girlfriend,

there wasn’t much I could do

He’d come to my garret,

and we’d make something like love

But the flowers he gave me have wilted,

but I keep them, like I keep him

He wants a life after life

But the world he didn’t love,

and the one he didn’t love

should have been

Night after night

But the world he didn’t love,

and the one he didn’t love

will never know

paradise

When he makes his confessions,

when he says his prayers

and kneels beside his bed in the moonlight,

is a part of me there?

He’s taken up with a new girl,

who keeps his conscience clean,

and tells him he’s a keeper,

though I don’t know if he knows what that means