Kate wants to stand in the dark empire of light.
Alone, she wants her loneliness to last.
Kate wants Venice where there ain’t no Kate.

Her would-be lovers’ letters start contrite.
When they say they saw her somewhere in her past,
Kate wants to stand in the dark empire of light.

Her financier can’t fool her reprobates;
at her bookish window where she’s unharrased,
Kate wants Venice where there ain’t no Kate.

All who claim to claim her won’t take her right
to a grace anonymous as the smell of grass;
Kate wants to stand in the dark empire of light.

In her garret the canvas waits for paint,
but she can’t hear the bird down on his lamp post;
Kate wants Venice where there ain’t no Kate.

Meanwhile, your latest arrives too late;
Kate from the inside out’s the Kate you’ve lost.
And Kate?  She stands dark in her empire’s light.
Kate’s in Venice where there ain’t no Kate.