Love rip me away, and speak through my tongue,
tear me apart from my poisoning mind,
grant me forgetting in songs that you've sung,
and bury me deep in songs you may find.
Love tear me in two, that I may not think,
my self and my mind keep distant apart.
If ever before you in terror I shrink,
recall that there's nothing redeeming in art.
If you've the mercy to grant me one gift,
make me a ghost or a husk or a shell.
Render me light, so slight wind could lift
my nothing to heaven from uttermost hell.
Or one other thing I wish you could do:
allow me, just once, to say something true.
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