High upon a moonlit hill
We stand together, alone
We watch the people far below
Their hearts as cold as stone

Cold as ice, the night's wind howls
Her mournful song of death
Until the dawn the sun warmed earth
The dragon's fiery breath

We feel the light, the god-shed heat,
A song of mortal men
We hear the songs and feel the warmth
Until night falls again.

You can have the days beginning
You can bring it to the end
You can clear out of the middle
Take it all with you my friend

You can swing from forever after
Relish in the here and now
Remove all of the laughter
Melt down the golden cow

You can pack up all belongings
Take it all away in tow
The only thing I ask of you
Is leave my Barry Manilow

You can take the sun from out its cradle
Remove the stars at night
Set to dry the gentle rains of spring
Take what you can of life

Feel free to stop the world from turning
Back it up if you must
Take my old 50's Chevy with you
Leaving behind the rust

Take the shore from its kissing of the sea
Lift the beggar from off his knees
You can pretty much do anything
Just leave my Barry Manilow with me

His wife said, you’re too
Nice to people, too

**** nice, you ought to
Be like Rocky; he

Don’t take no **** from
People, he tells them

Where to get off and
Is down their throats far

Quicker than they can
Say, boo boo, but you,

You’re just too nice, you
Even open doors

For dames and give them
The big friendly smile,

And give them the bright
Eyed sparkle. He let

His wife’s words float on
By like butterflies,

Focussed on the art,
His word management,

Giving form to his
Notions, painting out

Scenes, putting plots to
New ideas, and for

Another thing, his
Wife added, what’s with

The dame in the ****
Photos everywhere?

Who’s she? In the frame
By the bed, on your

Cell phone, tucked away
In your pocket book?

Are you some kind of
Religious fruit? He

Looked at his wife (she
Was a looker, had

A nice face and cute
***) and watched her mouth

Move, saw her tongue, like
Some small snake go in

And out and how fine
Her eyes were in the

Morning sun, how they
Shone some, and he said,

You know, your mouth moves
Quite prettily, your

Lips, they’re like parting
Thighs and how I just

Love the way your head
Tilts slightly to one

Side just like some odd
Inquisitive bird,

And by the way, the
Dame in the photos

Is St Therese, and
She’s just there to bring

Me comfort and to
Remind me how pure

And heaven sent a
Woman can be and

That there is more to
Women than meets the

Eye, but his wife stood
And shook her head, and

Not another word
By his wife was said.

Grant me a corner
in which to cry;
through joyous eyes
I saw my son born,
through bleeding eyes
I watched him die.
Grant me a corner
in which to cry.

Permit me a quiet place;
let tender fingers
sew together
a wounded heart,
which through
my son's death,
has been torn apart.
Permit me
a healing place.

Allow me a soft bed
on which to rest;
let someone soothe
my aching brow;
keep the memory
of my first born son,
not amidst the dry reeds
or dull souls,
but amongst the best.
Allow me a bed
on which to rest.