we want to be beautiful like our sorrow we want to be great like our crimes try to learn to love our sorrow vain attempt to love our lives all that is great belongs to beauty all that is “sacred” is a lie we’ve come to raise a forest of pyres a great and tragic social dusk sorrow’s army of unknown children hurled thunderbolts across the twilight we laugh the fine red laughter of hatred we laugh the fine blue laughter of love we have died with stars in our eyes because the stars are the friends of the dead
we want to be beautiful like our sorrow we want to be great like our crimes try to learn to love our sorrow vain attempt to love our lives