Darling

The laughing man and his obsession, part of my past became, Silenced in his own hall of shame, ‘Cause when his every word was carried by the red scorpion, He hurt me more than my people; On a perfect day, a girl’s intuition whispered to my heart: “We live for love” she said, “and you need a change,” “Someone real with dirty looks, dressed in stereo, to dry your tears.” So I wrote as I had to, to make your car pass in cold blood; My dear, my loser, truth and falsehood were blurred in your heaven, If the ghosts of your utopia still sound alive, far away, You are in a state of shock, shining the old light, Of a senior living with a dim view of the world; My dark desires are no more, as I say cheers to the meat and eat the beat, Among those stargazers where no sunburn, no summer, May ever disturb the crystalline green tempest of their champion sound; I don’t want a lover, darling, for I am not going to love you.