Dead!
so I made her out of leather and metal and thread,
and the man who knew too much was rifled through.
but she didn't look like my Georgia,
and the blood was dark and crusted when they arrived.
the body was gone.
the clockmaker stole the midnight toll,
and the blind trolley man rolled on without us,
top hat cocked, goggles foggy.
we stood beneath the lamplight,
a stoic pair, a dark pair.
the madman and the death of the madman,
standing side by side.
the man who knew too much is dead,
and I and my love are free
to wallow in the dampness of the night.
they will never find us alive, I and my Georgia.
her leather hand only makes me squirm.
my Georgia was an angel,
my Georgia is dead.
my Georgia was life,
her death was my death.
awaiting the trolley, we fall asleep before we hear the bells.
.
