The Lover

A pauper, in shredded clothes
Trading silk for a simple stone
Admirer, carried forth
By the vision of beauty he may never know

Won't wilt to desire's hold
Through blisters, through ire and scorn
A man, a wretch, beloved's pawn
A man with an eye that's never wrong

Plenty's son, will trade away a gift, his father's alms
For the cold, hard ground

Can you hear as the voice is rising
Resonating with the shining sun
For the puppet, for the shadow
It's like waking up
Or do you feel it like a dull mutation
Is it a sick, synthetic pulse
My heartbeat deserves an answer that's better

A child, sleeps on the clouds
A cherub, with a godlike power

Struck with a pleasure, a sickness that cures
A pain, where ignorance wizens
Divider, uniter at once
Of the mad and the sane
O my harshness, becomes an innocent thing
Upon this child's bowstring
On his draw and release
Hold your breath
For a fate that's as fair as a war

Can you hear as the voice is rising
Resonating with the shining sun
For the puppet, for the shadow
It's like waking up
Or do you feel it like some dull mutation
Is it a sick, synthetic pulse
My heartbeat deserves an answer that's better

I hear you, you call it false
This lovely account of love

Your chemical tells me nothing of these things that I endure
It's not enough

Dig deep to find our sunlight
For light I go under
It seems so dark

In crowds I search for silence
Where echoes, like thunder
They leave me numb