The pigs are taking shots at the mourners on the hill
I’m truly not neutral, but I lost all direction
Today I woke ready to blow the bridge
For finding you hand over your mouth
So instead I burn my own village down

I’m grieving for you, my love
And I don’t understand what’s going on

Just as the twin volcanoes of Cuauhn?huac, we were once stable
So sad I must bury every thought of you before it shows its teeth
Now I amuse myself with a tibias form of Virgilian lots
Like your neo-feminist divinations

I’m grieving for you, my love
And I don’t understand what’s going on

All my memories, once almost sacred, are embarrassments to me now
Of the three things I find most shocking, the first is how trivial you are
The second is my depth of feeling; third, the purity of our collapsed –

Grieving for you, my love
And I don’t understand what’s going on