"We had a death pact, and I have to keep my half of the bargain. Please bury me next to my baby in my leather jacket, jeans and motorcycle boots.
Nancy was buried in a Jewish cemetery and Vicious, who was not Jewish, could not be buried with her. According to the book Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk by Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain, Vicious' mother scattered his ashes over Nancy's grave.
So, here we are. You smoking and im playing my guitar. You try a kiss, you miss. Dont even start. The hookah at the corner of my room, like a sad abandoned groom. An empty bottle of rum, and im feeling so numb. The notes wont come out right, it all looks darker tonight. I stare deep in your eyes and suddenly realice, as I watch the smke of your last cigarrette fly away, that we have nothing left to say. Same old story, late night glory. But no, you wont get a kiss, dont insist. Any heart I aim at, I dont miss. My love for you doesnt exist. I used to get so pissed, but now I dont even care. You know what there is, so stop acting like this. Last time I kicked you out our fight was so loud, the neighbours complained. But you always come back, its so insane. You say of all the girls, you like me the most. Oh, but im like a ghost, my love will never be real. Real deal. You dont own my heart, nobody does. My heart belongs to art and to the past. MP