I'm buried under the cement of her swimming pool.
My story?
It was the cruelty of a crime of passion; we were exposed in her bed.
I was shut down in cold blood and buried in the soft cement of his new pool.
It's been over 15 years.
Every time she swims  I try to sing to her, she's still beautiful.
Her smile, the feel of her skin, her long silky hair.
She kept me alive under that cement, one time she approached upon the floor of the swimming pool.
I saw a tear locked up behind the frames of the diving classes
I told her how much I missed her, how much I yearned for her touch.
Hah, never mind, she never heard me.
I'm waiting for an earthquake; it's my only resurrection.
I'm buried under the cement of her swimming pool.
An earthquake will set my soul free.