Incorrupt Waltz

God prepares for no one Each day's my first communion Tell me my love, do my tears taste like wine? Do they sting in the back of your throat? Will you dry my bones to make a shrine? When my body has become the dirt Will I finally be out of time? You better bow your head in prayer for me Because my own neck is hanging From the beads of a rosary And I feel how the moonlight still stings In the garden where I long to be