I dreamt of you last night
I couldn't sleep all night
I dreamt of you, a mess
You wore a see-through dress
And in some distant future, archeologists will strive
To find some clues regarding pre-apocalypse life
And maybe, maybe they will find a list made by you
That you'll sit down and write when your death is nearly due
A list of all your lovers, boyfriends, and girlfriends
The kind of list you make when your days are almost at an end
And there among the boys and girls, the part is in your gain
The distant future archeologists will find my name