When the moonshine's as bright
as it'll get for the bright-eyed
young man's fumbling
fingers to stumbling
on up a younger one's
quivering, crumbling,
deeply asundered
Innocence,
what then?
Is it you or was it me,
was it Adam, was it Eve,
or the devil in a snake,
coiled up in poisoned hate,
maybe Alpha and Omega
bent on giving freedom
to such a vast estate
with The Devil as a date?
Or is it being loved
by Someone so rich we could never earn a cent,
got us greedy,
stole our senses
till we started needing
something other than the grace
of the light upon our Lover's face
to spend our breath
from out our lungs,
so we chose poverty and death
to break our Innocence in theft?
| lay down | lay down your weary tune | lay down the song you strum and rest yourself | 'neath the strength of strings no voice can hope to hum | and let the morning breeze like a bugle blow against the drums of dawn | and be struck by the sounds before the sun knowing that the night is gone | and stand unwound beneath the skies and clouds unbound by laws | unbound by laws | and rest yourself 'neath the strength of strings no voice can hope to hum |
February 7, 2013
On Treacherously Keeping It In.
Does he love you tonight?
Did it keep you up until tomorrow?How do you keep it all together, Babe,
counting all those damned, dead sparrows
by yourself?
You're by yourself, now.
And you'll always be alone
there, there
by yourself.
You got your anger
in the whitest little flame,the color of your ghostly, gauntly, ghastly,
cowardly little game
there by yourself.
...
Devil and the angels got their promises to keep,
like you got your pity
there keeping you from sleep
there by yourself.
...
You got your silence
in a violent, little box.
Opened it up to teach me a lesson;
ain't you a sly little fox
there by yourself.
You're by yourself, now.
And you'll always be alone
there, there
by yourself.
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