I had you pegged for a suicidal girl Dancing round the fringe of the festive left Petty as your insults were, I never guessed How grand the theft, how wide the heft I knew Who paid you I never understood who you worked for What the curt abbreviations were short for How the scathing critique was just a tantalizing peek At the life that chose you The underground will find another Manson The poets will find another Pound The campuses will bleed until hearts run for greed The galleries will burn to the ground The asbestos at the bottom of the bottle Fills each basement and every garage The resistance we feel is real It's a mirage And the man who has never known thirst Cannot wrap his head around a mirage