|I've wound my heart
round and round with iron
but there always was some little gap
for a small warm flame to enter - -
and the cold breath that follows after.
Now that poor romantic thing
is dangling on it's string
all rips and tears and bruises,
no smile will ever fill it.
There was the light and the road uphill,|
suddenly aware of all that I knew,
joyfully sure of all I could do,
Queen of the Mountain because of you.
But the thirst of time has drained my will,
soaring confidence lies stranded,
the spell of loving you has ended,
I'm sliding down again, empty-handed.
Hey you, can you feel me there in your mind?
There was no other way that I knew
so I stepped through the black mirror of night
and left Reality waiting behind.
I may never find back but that is alright -
it's what you pay for a dream made come true.
Come on and let's walk to a place that I know,
on Twilight Road, halfway to Sleep:
the ebony-furnished Inn of Gentle Distress,
where the whiskey is fine and the candles all glow.
We'll have a few drinks and I will confess
that you have my heart in your keep.
To love you is as hopeless as a quest for the sun,
I'll never be able to fly that high,
but your mischievous smile holds a powerful spell,
not to mention your eyes when they sparkle with fun,
and though my misery's sometimes deeper than hell,
my passion outshines the stars in the sky.
You're looking at me with inscrutable eyes
and there's nothing more I could say.
From somewhere the sound of guitars comes through,
a girl in a red dress silently cries.
And just when your lips form an 'I love you too'
morning comes up and takes you away.
|These months have been lacking in rhythm|
to make life swing,
nothing to keep the dark things at bay,
nihilism just one step away
and what I am feels like falling apart.
No strength even for hate,
only a sullen rebellion against an idiot fate
that binds you, confines you
to a life tailored to fit somebody else.
In a world that seems so bereft
no challenge to make a new start,
no-one to share in a smile -
this day now ought to bring
a little something to warm my heart.
|Here comes the Stalker of Spiders and Flies
and puts herself ceremoniously to rest
full length over my belly and chest,
shedding fur and purring like mad.
Agreed, it feels comfortable and warm
but my glasses and book are out of reach
and I'm denied the use of my feet.
I move and there open accusing eyes,
limbs are sorted for unwilling retreat
and I can but watch her repair
with all dignity to my favorite chair
to whet her claws and turn an offended back ...
Try as I might, I don't have the knack
to find a balance of freedom and warmth,
there's either too much, then again not enough,
can't help it - the vagaries of love.
|This time I wont let it slip from my hold,|
to be in this song feels so good,
the evil voice I will send to sleep
and if it stirs bury it deep
beneath the laughter and warmth - -
but I am like a walk in an autumn wood,
all flaming colors but cold, so very cold
and my heart is all thorns.