Once I’m dead and no longer writing balderdash
Please, bathe me in plaster
Then put me next to Diana of Versailles
Or any sculpture cut in alabaster
Drain my blood and make it a paint
Use to make golden red skies of dawn
Then put it next to the Mona Lisa
So people search up who I was when I’m gone
As for my immaculate skin, peel it
It’ll make the most expensive rug one could step on
Extend it at the Samothrace’s stairs
So we'll see which masterpiece they’ll gaze upon
I could wish the stars
Though I just crave for fame
Some fear demons and death
But I only fear people won’t know my name
Bury me in the Louvre
Anyhow, immortalize me in its guts
Or at least this œuvre
So people will know who I was once I’m gone
