A diamond sits upon a shelf,
And I stare at it by myself.
Someone asked not long ago,
If we were planning to give it a go.
This friend asked in a laughing tone,
"Life's a pretty sad thing to do alone."
Reality sets in but the feeling's still there,
That envious, metallic-tasting flair.
I cry diamond tears into a well,
Fiddling with the edges of this spell.
I love you dear but I know,
The only thing I'll be married to is death row.
