To which saint should one pray For a life lived astray with a song in heart and smile upon their face Unencumbered by others perceived disgrace Where will this man be sent for never praying the rent On a soul they all say comes pre-stained And can only fly free if restrained
None have ever loved except you and me We live alone atop this mountain We see those in the valley All convinced they are on high But we alone have that view And when they truly see our love They are laid bare Like a child suddenly aware that Santa is not real What they believed to be true was a lie Their love will never feel right again Always feel lacking Less Inferior We have ended so much lesser love Simply by allowing them to see our love True love The love of poets and madmen The love unreachable It is unreachable because it is ours Not theirs We occupy this perch together as one
like the lion became the house cat and the wolf became the poodle *** has been domesticated it has been made small and controllable your desires have been selectively bred down to acceptable sizes nothing too grand or over the top stray too far from the center and they will castrate you in the press
At the crack of dawn The day already lay broke I rummaged through its pockets Hoping to find more time But they were empty as empty as my dreams Of love, and power, and glory They told me I could be anything but there is not time to be everything