She was so good to her slaves
So many came today, just to make sure
The voicemail pinged and I feared she’s still here
Life is loss and she was a winner
How could she die? She was meaner than anyone
Still generous to a fault, and she had plenty
Finally someone got her hair right
But that dress?
Can I forget her? I try
Life is short, death is sure, seeing her, I’m certain
She could make you bleed without wounds
I loved her; she never said it
Can’t recognize her now, can’t recognize myself
We’re doing fine, not dead yet, thanks
Where do she think she went?