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