i am lost and that is no wonder in the world.
we have our monsters
and the picture of our beautiful, is the sting . not the beast,
i need to sleep awhile... because the night is the night
and God weary.
i have no hands to grasp this completely
but i have you
to make terrible, my every concoction
of how it truly Is.

but here it comes.

i do not linger where you want.
i ***** and trump in the loam
of our distinguished withering
and amass a lump of false joy
for our trouble.

could you love me in my narrow caul ?

would you allow for the winters of our rubies
and still be sweet ?

can we sever
the ties that blind
and regard the sun
a friend ?
when so much
is the devil's orphan
and so little
the day's
moon ?

can we wait ?

Or are you such as I -
and can no longer be
Yes
when the short answer
is a Novel ?

that hasn't slept....

Sleeplessness is a lonely kingdom.

I could promise myself discipline with the daylight,
but what if I told you that I lied under the moonlight?
Sinners never sleep,
sinners never sleep.

They lie awake and talk
with the wings of Gabriel.
They don't shut their eyes;
there are stories in the picture houses of their own.
Of lie and deciet.
And guilt and anguish.

They'll never sleep.

They'll howl with the night
and forget why they were meant
to darken their hearts to match the sky.

They'll never glow. They'll never beat.
I'll never sleep. I'll never sleep again.

If you were
a field
of daffodils,
I would rain
kisses on you,
pluck a bundle
of your beauty
and clutch you
tightly in
my heart,
forever.
   ~mce

You don't hear it much
My music, my muse
My soul was taken away
That's something big to lose

Contracts signed and sealed
Delivered...not to me
Money never came my way
Not a penny did I see

Follow the music and you will find
Musicians like me,
We all went and signed
Contracts worth nothing
Not to us, not a cent
Follow the money
And see where it went

We poured our emotions
Our hearts and our souls
We gave them our music
Which they all then stole

Producers, execs
all down the line
All made the money
On songs that were mine

I heard all the rumours
But, they must be wrong
Then I wrote and signed off
On another hit song

Follow the music and you will find
Musicians like me,
We all went and signed
Contracts worth nothing
Not to us, not a cent
Follow the money
And see where it went



I was not famous
But, there must be some sales
Just follow the money
From the bargain bin pails

Somebody, somewhere
Was raking it in
As companies folded
In the business of tin

Houses of cards
Fold and collapse on the floor
But, the money went somewhere
'Cause I'm still in the stores

Follow the music and you will find
Musicians like me,
We all went and signed
Contracts worth nothing
Not to us, not a cent
Follow the money
And see where it went


Somebody made out
Like a bandit with me
My albums still selling
From around sixty three

Just follow the money
And see where it goes
Into some execs houses
And some dj's nose

I'm too old to go
And do a oldies rock show
I'm always invited
But, I never will go

My voice is all raspy
And one thing's still wrong
I get paid for the singing
But, I don't own the song

I know that I made it
But I hate the sound
Of my music creations
That I sold by the pound

Every time that they surface
On late night FM
I know somebody else
Made cash off of them

Just follow the money
And then you will see
The thousands of others
Who were ripped off like me