What's Left Us
And all of your ways
Will come scuttling out
And lay themselves down
In the hands of preparators
Who'll line them up
And pin them down
And speak your name out loud
And whisper mine in blades of grass
I was buried in the Valley of the Kings
You struck hard, and it was meant to sting
I made myself up in the image of a man
I made myself up in the image of a man
(Now my heart turns this way and that
When I think what the people will say)
To lie in my own bed
To be still in my small sarcophagus
And to occupy silently
That which is found all around me
Not to arise and go knocking
On the door from the inside
Not to call from the inside
Not to let it be heard
I was buried in the Valley of the Kings
You struck hard, and it was meant to sting
I made myself up in the image of a man
I made myself up in the image of a man
(Now my heart turns this way and that
When I think what the people will say)
Autor(es): Colleen Collins, David White
