Crying For Her First Emperor…

Her tears mingle wearing his crossed-collar Blue-silk blouse in bed And, when they're dried, she's interned in clay. With her terracotta army, With her terracotta, stalwart, horse. Oh, she's crying for her first emperor For her first loves dynasty, Oh, she'll excavate - all those undeserving, Others and weep, whilst! Her stalwart horse pulls at the bit. And until her - jade-black hair! Turns grey and falls from its pine-cone braids. And, rest on her moon, washed, collarbones. She'll remain resolute! Warm in his robes. In his crossed-collar blue silk blouse In his crossed-collar blue silk blouse Until one day, she'll be rapt - naked Warm beside him; again in his loving throes. But until then he'll be engaging in a war Far, far out of her hollow weepings reach He'll be trembling in his gun boots. Driving his chariots, over the rank and file Of her dream terracotta army, Sent to bring him back to her bed-chamber! On a stalwart, horse sent to Sent to, sent to, Sent to rescue him from drowning.