With all the speed and burnt metal of a Futurist sonata
You blaze with fire and passionate voice
Screaming Piaf into the night

Your hair swinging wildly
Whips up a frenzied love
Swirls in me a geyser of bubbling lust
As your voice again crashes onto my shore

I’m taken in by your exuberant hands
Clawing at the air as you express
Every lost angel inside yourself
They clamour to the surface
And ride the wave of your joy
Decanting their last will
Into you

She was beauty
In its most honest form
Singing Mozart in the kitchen
Reading Kafka on the shore

The light she held inside her
Burned brighter than a flame
It set fire to my tindersticks
It smoked out all my pain

With liquid gold inside my blood
The passions all cry out
Her soft heart in my rough hand
Lay rest to all my doubt

Through all the dust around my heart
She carved a path of stone
Now as i lay my full head down
I know I’m not alone

Your head turns away slowly
And i know from that one moment
Its over

I see a side of your face
That i never noticed before
A darkness of shadows
A cold flat marble top

It was always so easy for me
To transform into the jester
The knave, the pious and broken king
Waiting to serve and be served
As a piteous wretch

I quashed my hunger
Taught myself to live for others
Not for my own heart
But as a parasitical tendril of want
Mistletoe as a golden bough

For others i laughed
For others i acted
A puppet on stage
The stringless marionette

All of the Russian writers taught me
To look inwards
To find my reflection
In a dandified past
L’etranger mon frere