You are the love of my life, my dear,
a love that grows with each new year,
so please do be truly willing to hear
me confess: my love has left your rear.

I knew you'd find this news alarming,
and regret I couldn't be more disarming!
I know that I am no Prince Charming
but who in here is your health harming?

We used to dance beneath a burning sun,
and then when we felt like it, we'd run.
Remember how often the day was fun-
please don't tell me those days are done.

If you love me the way you say you do,
you'd love the song of the summer too.
You'd love what I love, the way I grew,
and more so still, you would love you.

There is a room as old as war
without a window or a door.
In here is none but the smoky den
of too many torn and immortal men.

Through Brazen Bull they'd stay unslain
though men are strongly swayed by pain,
thus here are the most unholy tales-
for hidden within was a Cat O' Nine Tails.

The fiend who found it holds it still,
whose morphing face appears at will
to mimic a president, parent, or pastor,
though his name is always, "Master".

Most men fall to Master's feet
and swear, declaring their defeat.
From his wrath they shall be saved
so long as they remain enslaved.

A few will wrestle and risk the knot-
most will fall, but some will not.
Just give the clock a little spin,
and Master's changed his face again.

The living come with grassy tread
To read the gravestones on the hill;
The graveyard draws the living still,
But never anymore the dead.
The verses in it say and say:
“The ones who living come today
To read the stones and go away
Tomorrow dead will come to stay.”
So sure of death the marbles rhyme,
Yet can’t help marking all the time
How no one dead will seem to come.
What is it men are shrinking from?
It would be easy to be clever
And tell the stones: Men hate to die
And have stopped dying now forever.
I think they would believe the lie.

A voice said, Look me in the stars
And tell me truly, men of earth,
If all the soul-and-body scars
Were not too much to pay for birth.

Sitting by
my windowsill
my soul is still

outside
my home

are many
people
talking fast
drinking coffee
coughing smoke

living
dying slowly
and horribly.

You'd like to be just like anyone
who, held by wires, flew-
and you'll take anything
if they do too,
until one of you
takes a few too much.
It's always cool to play the fool
in the hot kitchen
'till the fool plays chicken.

Let me breathe your smoke
and I'll tell you a joke:
I'll love you 'till I'm broke.
Love you 'till I croak.
Love you 'till you love me too
(but then I'll wish we never spoke).

I know how to get to hell:
by riding the crab with the pretty shell.
She's wondering how long I'll take;
I'm struggling to stay awake.
I wish the birch wouldn't fall when shook;
she gets jealous when I read a book.

Look before you bite the bait!
Don't hate because love couldn't wait.
Don't play the Game of Kings like me-
my focus fell from keeping free
and trading my queen right out the gate,
I sealed my fate for checkmate.