I review my past through wicked windows framed in silver 
and hung in toughened glass, upon my face, around and over. 
Now and then: memories of men who loved me. 
No stolen kiss - could match their march on hot coals for me. 

I have walked a line both faint and narrow, hard to follow. 
Caught up in circumstance. Harsh [bad word] for history to mellow. 
Through my eyes: loyalties and obligation 
magnified. Obedience: the better fellow. 

Better not remember me. Don't mis my passing. 
Fierce winter fails [bad word] my icy sleep. 
We never quite vanish. No wet soft surrender. 
Still waiting: bad [bad word] in close families. 
I laughed like any child - although you might find that strange 
and christmas was my favourite holiday. 

Christmas was my favourite holiday. 

I am not alone in seeing the world through wicked windows 
while others hide likewiese behind this vulnerable squinting. 
It's in the stare: it's in the silent [bad word]  
Strip you bare: I ofer you no more disguising. 

Better not remember me. Don't miss my passing. 
Fierce winter fails [bad word] my icy sleep. 
We never quite vanish. No wet soft surrender. 
Same bad [bad word] in new families.