Will you tell my love that I love him,
If he makes it back to town?
If his hair is slicked, his eyes are bright,
Will you tell him to sit down?
Will he tell you that he has missed me,
And can’t believe that I’ve gone.
Will he ask you what’s become of me,
And if I am all alone?
And if you tell him that I miss him,
Will his eyes fill up with tears?
Will he think of me, in all my joy,
And mourn the missing years?
I must wonder if he’s thought of me,
Since the day he moved away.
And in New York, was he as happy,
As he’d be if he had stayed?
I will not promise I don’t miss him,
That our love was naught but fake.
Because even with all this distance,
That’s a vow I cannot make.
There are some bonds that can’t be broken,
There are some loves that will go on.
So will you tell my love I love him,
And will love him when he’s gone?
If he asks those trivial questions–
“Did she suffer?” “Was it long?”
Simply lie and say I was at peace,
Even if it may be wrong.
Do not tell him how I cried for him,
Screamed his name till I was hoarse.
There are some things that he should not know,
For sometimes the truth is worse.
But that’s over now, the pain is gone,
And I’m all dressed up in white.
And in his fancy Italian suit,
I’m sure he’ll be quite the sight.
So just tell my love that I love him,
Even though it’s from afar.
And do not ever let him doubt it,
Even when his heart’s at war.
I will be a good little dead-girl,
I will let them carry me
In the black casket on their shoulders
To the grave where I shall be.
I will not say that I am sorry
That I’m going, that I’m gone,
But he should at least know this one thing:
He was the only one.
And as I scream that I still love him,
To the sky and to the sea,
I must wonder if he can hear me.
I must wonder if he sees.