(...)
and I wish that I was made of stone
so that I would not have to see
a beauty impossible to define
a beauty impossible to believe
a beauty impossible to endure
the blood imparted in little sips
the smell of you still on my hands
as I bring the cup up to my lips
no God up in the sky
no devil beneath the sea
could do the job that you did, baby
of bringing me to my knees
outside I sit on the stone steps
with nothing much to do
forlorn and exhausted, baby
by the absence of you

(Brompton Oratory, Nick Cave)