I get nervous when she comes my way, her cigarette smoking in the glass ashtray. My reflection in her emerald eyes, I wonder what the look stretched across her face implies. She's the kind to make me lie awake contemplating what's to gain from this and what is at stake.
She's known love at least once before, and the feeling is one which she can't ignore. It's a sentiment we both must share judging by the way my fingers move through her hair. But my heart is ******* in knots. A good love is just that -- good, until it's not.
Written to the melody of and inspired by The White Stripes' "A Martyr For My Love For You."
Dear lady with your diamonds, dear woman with your pearls, dear girl with your mother's pills, dear baby with your curls, is there one out here among us who is worthy of your world? Is there one out here among us for whom your heart's reserved?
You can call it being a Christian, I'll call it fiction, tradition in need of revision. You get your scripture on your television and at night on your knees in the fetal position, praying to a god who you tell me is jealous. The whole premise, the practice, the promise is selfish. And a wafer and wine is the flesh and the blood? What? The grail to me sounds like a diamond **** cup. On your knees for the prodigal son, altar boy walks by and now your tunic's undone? Let my verse be the nail in your wrist and truths I speak the coin in your dish.