she begins to swing her hips
and flicks her bick to overload
her lips on fire with the words
her mind is a furnace comin unglued
see the images leaking out the seams
rivets slamming the walls
as the ***** busts a nut
she is full on now
aint no stopping
aint no slowin down
what are you crazy think you want her
spreadin roots in this state of mind
like unleashing a hailstorm in a paper cup
this version of the girl aint for bring home to momma
she swims out of her eyes
and bites the natural world
but she is an artwork on two fast feet
she is the cover of time pasted on a cereal box
eat that walter cronkite

any questions

his hand a tangled knot
in the handles of his life
and the he begins to bounce on his feet
as the tune rides up onstage
the crows parts to let the kid roll
they can tell this one is gonna burn the carpet
he  calls out the things on his mind
the funky thing crawls down his mind
and out the dancing in his legs
heavy steps like rolling thunder
light ones like flashes of lightening
see the music speak with this
poor fools broken form bouncing
but see that ear to ear grin
that ain't painted there
its live and in person
cause this is living
when the music shakes to your soul
long into the night as the band onstage
plays through their list
plays all the favorite ones
and some for the silly little ones who think
its so cute to wear weekend Tye-dye
these two got the dance-floor sweating
these two stretching the flesh
and greeting the sky
one star at a time
people can you feel the heat
coming off her
shes gonna give birth to a lighting rod
and its gonna explode allover this dance-floor

all  too soon the band is pulling out the encore
fare thee something
and her exhausted smile is filled with love
for every note she has made love to
this night
and his laugh is for the trails of mind light
that he has danced with and ran with
they wind it on down
they meet in the middle
and hold eachother
as the music finally fades
the rest of the world goes home to sleep
these two
will lay down to relive it in visions
for a lifetimes in a dream
goodnight prince of the river
goodnight princess of dreadlocks

i fold my head into the
thin envelope of her arms
then she folds me into
the small space between her words
keeps me there for a time measured only
in the beads of sweat that gather on her
near perfect brow
she wipes me from memory and
deposits me on the pavement
the cold air shrinks me
the hot sun expands me
i cover her with evidence of wicked eyes
and impressions of nibble marks
i surf her skin with touches
that rival thouse that her nightmares
and the things her deepest desires are made of
her innocent demure hides her favorite things
jean nate scents spread like a casual laugh
i kiss her mind with the story vision thought dream of me and her
spending the night with some other honey pie
i relive myself on her essence
with the words that gave birth to her current personality

she changes faces
its just a metaphor
and she cant hide the fact she is ill at ease
with this nearness
this untamed and unpredictable
she needs on many levels to feel like she
is in control of somthing

i fold my head onto her lap
but the process has changed
she can no longer sustain the madness of this method
she can no longer pretend
that she can not cheapen herself for her own gain
for her own loss
that in the end she cannot deny
it is she who must choose the lesser of two evils
i would rescue her from this fate of her choosing
but i am beyond redemption in her eyes
and i am intent on this not becoming a fishing trip
casting out lines in hopes of
finding a future in the
destitute but romantic face of streetlife
or motel shuffle carpet baggers

after much wailing
at the little gain for much expense
and endless beating of the quality of life dead horse
we found common ground
which without a doubt will get some
banker trying to foreclose on at some point
but  for the moment its just the three of us
verses the world
armed with a rubber duck and a bucket of rice

at that point
where the road changes
and you pause in the desicion
trying to figure the right way to go

i remember us singing bowies heroes
and saying that we could be
that we would be
and we beat them forever and ever
we were heroes so it would be real
just like in the song
but that summer day is a long time ago
and your long gone
in my heart i take your hand in mine
cause right now right here i need ya
you are my hero
super beautiful
super strong
and in dark times its thoughts
of you that carry me through

i stood there
in the train station
long after you left
just looking down the tracks
as to say that if i looked away
you would really be gone
and right now i need you
in my heart take your hand in mine
we sang bowies hero
and we kissed so it'd be real
just like in the song

that summer will always be a special
place in my heart
they say that heaven is that
moment in your life when you were happiest
and you spend eternity there
id spend it with you
summer night in new rochelle
we would be heroes
beat them forever and ever
so it'd be real
just like the song

the dank hallway is filled with
the repercussions of conversations
that only she can hear
her dead phone rings all night
her lover stepped out for a smoke
ten years ago but hell be back in a moment
she loads her version
of disappearing
and a smile slowly fades onto her face
a deity of sunshine
her open vest sweating skin
is covered in particles of the dirt that
hides her eyes from seeing the dire face
of this long long year
like a blast furnace she keeps thouse thoughts
sealed behind the locked hatch
its battleship beginnings lend credence
to defensive posture she takes
when confronted by the ugly truth
he ain't never comin' home
guess my name
but you know my face dont 'cha honey
its the blackend end of all your burned down dreams
its the final chapter of all your unfinished novels
i am darkness within your own soul
her jagged edge feelings scare her
and she tries not to let them show on her sculpted features
but with rancid ticks and convulsions of the lip
they escape one careless emoticon at a time
don't all emoticons have screaming faces
bleeding eyes
she smiles for me
and navigates the narrow hall
past the groping old men
to a safe corner where she can disrobe her heart
and let the tears fly fast and furious
pills and molly
would solve she thinks
but holding my hand will do in a fix
if i can get her through the night
if i can get myself through the night

i could not hold on anymore
to the desperate plea of the futile ones
who live off another wallet
so i set out that night for the south
to find the great parking lots
where i might find a space and place to rest my weary head
where i might find a place to be safely reckless
with her potions and instruments
but the violin she played spun a queer note
and i knew that if i did not go on with
whatever she wanted she would be the end of me
the  end of poor poor me
gather my slim riches in my carpetbaggers coat
and picked up the threadbare bag
that had all the steam-pipes and tools
for making a new titanic
lets sink it right this time
we ended up just east of Pensacola
in a fairytale land of flea markets
trying to barter our yesterdays
for a bowl of thin soup today
gather my threadbare deadlock hippie chick companion
and counseled her against talking too loud
against the tourqouse monsters
and she told me i was just nervouse
and stripped away the rationalizations
to show that the fat man is only selling tickets
to the free show
so i follow her
having made up my mind that she sees the reality
of this sandy soil wasteland
we ended up leaving Pensacola
and with a quick prayer
we were on the the boat to the Bahama
with our lives intact
maybe next time we will escape
maybe next time you will come back with another woman stead of me
and i said that's a possibility
that wouldn't make either of us happy but
that's the way it should be sometimes
life doesn't always make sense
well most of the time it dont

the crossing was quiet
it was just before dawn
and the cold grey sky
was full of broken cloud
it looked so peaceful
just a few rays of sunlight bursting slow
upon the new days world
felt so much like home
that i remember so clear
through the kitchen window
my mother baking on the crisp
sunday morning
through the schoolhouse window
friends that have since lost their way
once smiling upon me with such delights
lead my horse slow past the encampment
and marveled at the faces i saw there
in the new days world
where are my merciful friends
the ones who bind my wounds
and ease my fevered brow
then she came up out of the crowd
this stranger laid her hand to mine
and gave me sustenance and strength
as she explained that her man
had marched off so proud and fair
to seal the fate of the nation and protect hearth and home
but he never came home
and that though we be strangers
she could see him in my eye
knew him in my stance
and it was then i knew
i had ridden into no encampment of strangers
i had come home
the crossing was quiet
from this earthly domain to
the vaulted spires of the great beyond
the crossing was quiet
it was just before dawn
and the cold grey sky
was full of broken cloud
it looked so peaceful
just a few rays of sunlight bursting slow
upon the new days world
felt so much like home
and i am so grateful to finally be called home

a rain shower fades away in memory
and the air is thick in aftermath
drenched with memory
as we lay beneath the overhang
her lace dress crisp against my cheek
i turn to say something but am
caught up by her distant looking silent revere
the notion of her hand moving along my arm
and her fragile spinning thoughts speaking in her expression
soft skin glows in the evening light
like moonlight was created in her
and the world uses a cheap imitation moon instead of her
she feels me staring and tickles
i laugh and tickle back
we fill our small space with unconquerable giggles
with strong strong loves like sweet wine
we just keep drinking each other in
it always fulfills but its never enough
its like a rose that never fades
like a summer rain shower
soft and slow
wet and warm
intimate to the soul
like a thousand gentle kisses
soaking to the heart and soul
leaves you dancing slow barefoot spins
and heartbeat long pauses in the arch between
ecstasy of body and soul
she is a song to me
and its her love that sings to me
with each nuance of her presence
the day is fading
and soon we will have to pick our selfs up
and drift home
i don't want to get up
don't want to be out of her arms
want this moment to go on and on
want to stay here in
the sand 'neath the overhang forever
laughing holding hands we push back the years
and wonder how we ever
got on without this right here
her hand in mine
if heaven could be described
it would be the quiet dance
two lovers do
in each others arms
without a word
without anything but each other

such heights
that the heart soars
that the world soaked in such delightful
and enchanting light
that the limitless endurance of unbound soul
and strength of but even such a small smile

her kitten perfect punk rock makeup
entices me to kiss her
but i get entangled in the knitting needle
stuck in her eyebrow
its sharp surface reflections
gives me a glimpse of myself
and my noble knight shinning armor fumblings
and how quaint i must be to her
so old and all
with my guitar and my candles
in the hall
singing a serenade in broken french
at three am

i cook dinner for the six of us
but her friends all female versions
of jealous eyes
just look at my food with guilty suspicion
and the reflections are starting to get to me
after all how should i see
myself except as her other half
and im lacking a mohawk
and id feel kinda silly in one so
i drive in the towns roundabout
looking for a burmuda cop in downtown miami

from these grand heights
i find my way down to the realization
that i never fit into her sense of style
but i went in perfect with her collection of keychains
and teddy bears
im a collectable from the poets line
and how many got of of them hanging bout in the closet
but she strips down and says
hey babe forget the fashion noise
come here and get you some nookie
wanna chew on ya like a chocolate chip cookie
from the grand heights
to going down on the depths
aint so bad after all

a smoke filled room
in one of  New Orleans low wards
the kind of place that can change you
in a moment
and leave you dreamin about a face
that you saw in a moment
in the dark light
a face that had her voice
a face that held a world of promises
and held a heart full of sunshine's love

the smoke filled room is still there
you return to it each night
drink yourself stupid trying
to recapture that moment
recapture that face
that voice
that love
but shes gone

disappeared that night
down the road in the pouring rain
down to the factory's that never sleep
to the river road
where the small ships and the great liners
embark for points distant
for places that you cant even pronounce

and that's where she has gone
like a cloud
she drifted away
that smoke filled room is still there
and so are you every night
praying someday she will return
and every day
you labor on the river
fishing for hope
in the dark waters
of despair

down on the river road
the old men gather
to tell their tales
of sea fairing
and of deep waters dream
but river men have their own tales to tell
of mysterious women dressed
all in black luring men to watery death
in backwater or bay
so is it for naught you waited
all these years
perhaps instead of being punished
you are being spared
a watery grave in backwater or bay

he came down out of the mountains
came down out of the deity halls
of the mighty rocky mountains
riding a pale horse
with a gun in his hand
young to the eye
but his truth is miles of darkness
that few souls would dare

he came into the ***** town
and stepped into the waterin hole
with a wary eye
the crowd there was too involved in the
young ***** on the stage
in her various stages of undress
in the various stages of her futile demise
they are all dying down here in the flatland's
some kind souls try and stem the tide
but most just seek to sate thirsts before
they go to the valley of death below

he waited for the songs all to fade away
he waited for the hungry crowd to seek another meal
and then he came to her
then he walked into her narrow visions
he knew she would come
knew she had nothing left here
but the empty valley of death below
he tossed the barman
thirty pieces of silver
and romanced the petals
of her minds soft flower
soft so kind and convincing
to her unwilling ear

she finally could no longer resist
she scummed to the fever
and he picked her up
carried her to his steed
rode slowly out of town
not a soul saw him
not a soul cared
on up into the mighty rockies
he rode with her still form in his arms
into the bitter cold
and long night
an outlaw
of the highest order
one who has thieved from the kingdom below
down in the valley of death below

the hunched figurine
the tablet of her arm
has written there the church of her desires
each vein has a scar
blackened by collapse
and my lips seek them
and with such tender kisses
i do worship her and her devotions
the tool box comes out
and she delves into the greasy depth
withdrawing a single
straight narrow viper
with the poisons loaded
it stares at me
she licks her wet lip
and invests in me
the dream
i wait the bitter watch of night
with her false sleeping touching my shoulder
and jarring her back from the soft place
she runs her hand up my cold chest to lips
my kisses so tender of her church
trackmarks on my heart
after the bitter
is heaven

your bold words ring hollow
your intent was true
but the years have gathered on your limbs
struggle to breath
struggle to pretend that enduring this
will bring some measure of peace
will bring some answer to the long years
bargain with the devil
for a longer day but she holds all the cards
and keeps banking records of all your hearts
humble ideals ready to cash in on your weaker moments

the bare bulb dusty room
the appalling barrenness of its leathery skin
and the scent spins in my head like an illness
screaming its foul intentions
but i am drawn in
its soft seductive voice
after the bitter
after the thirst
it pours itself into my arms
and unbuttons its jeans
the unspoken is that its soft and warm
and after the bitter
after the thirst
it seems like a place i could be
ugly place i willingly wander

a feast of images
so many colors
and interesting things
pretty pictures
listen to the small screaming sounds as she consumes them
see the seeping flow become a
puddle of creeping figures
they make their way cross the room
to  her footstep
they shadow her moves
each one has a hand to the pulse of feelings
emotion plays to the heart of every play she makes
make no mistake

puddle of creeping figures
each individual one
a shadowy man in a grey overcoat
but as a mass they resemble
a smiling face of a woman familiar to you
familiar enough to get close with a blade
pool of creeping figures
a shallow lake of bleeding images
that makes strange sounds as it moves with
incandescent life
see her eyes glow like bloodworms
but she is what i desire
i french kiss her ideal
she will be heaven to me after the bitter

his untutored mind
struggles to grasp the issues
he masturbates the thought process
while events unfold around him
he wings through the darkly lens
showing images of all matter of
profane beast imaginary
while a real one gnaws slowly upon his chest
and he relishes displaying their crude natures in ink
while the real one bleeds the marrow of his soul

a figurehead
his ability to reason is fundamentally flawed
its cracked surface
displays the madness rampant below
the grinning madman
is yourself reflecting yourself reflecting yourself

the headaches are worse today
there's the sound of thundering hoofs
like a hundred strong horse bearing down out of
the darkness
a sickness grips him
repugnant man
the ***** within
puts his sour and rotting mouth upon
his thoughts
kissing each one
with a deep light giggle of unbounded power

rumor leeches sap his strength
their constant words whispered
in his aching ear
leave nothing but the entrails of troubled thoughts
stinking and rotting in the minds eye
between the devils within and the devilish around
how is he to find a safe way
and still there is that awful thundering of hoofs
like a thousand strong horse bearing down on
naked and defenseless him

his minds eye
stripped of its pretensions
peers around the dim place
finding neither familiar nor comfort
only the strange shape of feeding things
and the feel of dirt
and filth
he masters his fear
and tentative step upon
tentative step can only release him
from this

grasping his sword he blindly strikes
at the shadows fleeting and quick
the dashing little that bite and gnaw
but they are just the dancing leaves in the summer wind
time will tell
if the untutored mind shall escape this place intact
or forfeit his future
for penny's on the pound

a lament locked on her lips
held in place by lipstick
its powerful sorrows leak down
her chin in a thin red rivulet
to fall to the pure white satin sheet
pooling there like a lake of fire
smouldering there like a woman's
scorned heart
the song of her eyes
has become warped and
distorted and distant
like the sound of a small child crying
in some obscure corner of your house
but you cannot place the sound
it moves with a religious dignity
that defys logic
it escapes your grasp for you were never intended to
to see her vulnerability

his closed fist mouth
is drawn taught
with all the things he withholds
with all the children of his long nights
spent pacing and thinking in the small cell
of his cinderblock mind
these children are but shadows of  thought
but he feeds them like starving dogs
rabid to be released into steaming hot sun
his mask of a ****** expression
haunts his brittle dream
he keeps coming to a mirror
to behold that he is unchanged
he is the man the boy wanted to be
he is what his mother always dreamed he'd be

her nurturing touch is cracked
its egg shell surface bleeds
its sounds are foreign
and i surrender to its relentless devotions
bend to the precise course they dictate
absolution
prostrate to the purchased dream
follower of the prepaid horror

a lament locked on her lips
held in place by lipstick
its powerful sorrows leak down
her chin in a thin red rivulet
to fall to the pure white satin sheet
pooling there like a lake of fire
smouldering there like a woman's
scorned heart
and within that punishment box
i bleed for the face i am not
i suffer the eggshell dream
for a tenderness that i did not harm

the days when i could have
imagined that i had
any other road
any other ending
than here
the streetlights distant glow
leaves well defined shadows
in the warm darkness
its taste of thousands of places iv been
people who's faces familiar but obscured
echo along its silent patterns
in the thick grass
all around insects and wildlife fill this space
i grieve in with random but sharp and clear sounds
this narrow ledge
leans slowly down into the greasy black soil
which binds itself to my skin
i become entangled in filth
and trying to dry wash my hands i only serve to spread its
empire across my field
i slowly cease the struggle
and succumb  to stillness
surrender to my sorrow
the night folds itself around me
i may be alone with this terrible grief
but the night obscures and in that provides
its own tender comfort
it cannot take her place
but the night can offer the solitude
with which my heart may paint masterpieces with her face
with which my soul can make love to her soul
in the distant miles
in the cold reality of denied hope
were it that i could undo any of these things
that have brought me to this dark encounter
none would bridge the gap
none would suffice
i will grieve
then i will seek the crossroads
the place where he takes your fare
and carries you forth
to everlasting joys

habitat for angry things
his face is a contortionists *******
his fists flex through three hundred versions
of ready but are rendered immaculate by
the thought that binds him to this difficult maze
that there's got to be a way out
there is a light at the end of the tunnel

he suffers from smaller and smaller
versions of self esteem
and as that window slowly closes
his innermost thought is
that someone somewhere holds the key
that somehow at the last possible possum of a second
she will jump out of yonder shrubbery
and save the day
so rather than show the ever watching world
his apparent weaknesses
he will wait for her

reality is playing dead today
and all the goth girls say in
horrible unison
that your cute and all but
i don't date outside my species
could ***** Mae have been less cruel
she wont be coming to save anyone
not even herself

habitat for angry things
his face contorts with the simple pleasures of destruction
and dances with glee over the graves of the once defeated
but in the small hidden room of his soul
he sits in his discomfort chair
and works the meat of his sorrows
with a weeping
a terrible weeping
that fills the cathedral of his hearts broken dream

like a photograph folded in upon itself
one image is the end
one the beginning
but  only the blade separates

and that sound of weeping
that awful sound of weeping
that goes on for hours
that goes on for years
benith it is the sound of creatures
that defy
that are unspeakable
sharp little monsters of thought and feeling
that are contortions of rage
etched forever into his soul

he is buried there in the quiet cemetery
with his rages and sorrows replete
with his soul intact
forever to be in that small dark room
working the meat of his regrets
never to know the solace of her hand
never to know the freedom of forgiveness
it is in his hand
in smaller and smaller versions

bohemian in appearance
his narrow shoes and frilly jacket
are useless in the driving rain
his careworn expression
gave way to alarm
as the depths of depravity
became the fixation of his
neoclassic clique of mouthpeice's
they repeat word for word
the distorted lens and its bent descriptions
they surely the first to be on camera
moments into his meltdown
his bohemian woman
is lead to the gallows by the
politically correct daughters of the
american revolution
they clip her nails and paint them
patriotic colors
but are rebuffed when they go to shave
the star spangled into her crotch hair
aint no revolution happenin down there sweetcheeks
so she battles to beat the band
and wins one for dready's everywhere
you can dictate alot of things
but honeybunches bedroom ain't one of em
his bohemian style looks faded and grey
in the modern light of day
but given the choices
he beats pre-processed sliced cheese product
by a frilly jackets mile

and that shadow passes
like shadows do
and i drift awake to find your smile waiting for me
grab up whats left of our castle of sand
and explode onto the road
cause tomorrow never shines as bright
as that special yesterday
like a penny that gets tossed
like a shinny piece of rain
it just keeps fallin and flying
keeps the heart going
and your smile is all i really need
don't know where we going but we going in style
you wrapped in your Tye-dye blanket
and me in
my Walt Whitman hat
we gonna dance on distant beaches
we gonna tickle eachother on far off mountain tops
we gonna cheer the world on
from our armchairs
and smile for all the beautiful things we can find
cause shadows always come to an end
and that shadow has nearly passed us by
so lets grab up our bits and pieces
and see where that road takes us
see who we can find
baby lets dance on distant beaches
tickle each-other on far away mountaintops
and sleep in the forgiving arms of foreign lush forest

there is some nineteen twenty's blues
playin far too loud on the turntable
and there in the distance
a train horn lends itself to the moment
i run off a few lines
that are just as empty

looks like heaven
but its not
the world is no different
here than it is in your silent room
i would give anything to be there
in your room
perhaps we could talk till dawn
bout George Sanders
Charles Butterworth
and all the big ones
pills
he shot himself
pills
car accident
pills

jez left this morning
she said she needed some time
that relationships are too complex
and she needs to think
and didn't like the idea that
i don't want to marry her
i think
i just no longer have enough faith
that she or anyone could stay
not trade me in for a needle full of drugs
not trade me in for something faster newer
a better model

there is no magic left
i can still dance on the sand till the tide comes in
but there's no magic
shopping carts chase
but its just a lone set of strings
played slow
and deep
like tears

there is some nineteen twenty's blues
playing far too loud on the turntable
but even the five bottles of wine
haven't set the past out to sea
think i should go now
before i say something foolish

the spanish seaside town
as the sun sets
is golden to the eye
and warm to the soul
full of life
and beauty
did not seek this place
but fate sought it for me
she came out of the west
and i was captured the moment i beheld her

spanish goddess
her smile captivates
exquisite true beauty
in the glow of her laugh
with that one small gesture
she is pure sunshine
she is tender and true love
she heals the heart
and frees the soul
spanish goddess
her dark eyes a cage
of smouldering passions
and gentle fires of deep and true loves

spanish goddess
her smile
haunts me
such beauty cannot be contained in my heart
such absolute and mesmerizing perfection
cannot be beheld in such a small place
as one mans simple soul

spanish goddess
i am riven by you and nursed back by you
i am torn apart and mended by you
i am created and destroyed
all in the single moment i am graced by the sweet embrace
of even a mere glance with the touch of a smile of yours

spanish goddess
please please do not let me awaken
from this beautiful dream
let me be forever here
in spanish seaside town
at the setting of the sun
in the perfection of your attentions and kindness
with your beauty and warmth
that is heaven
in every sense of the word

spanish goddess
you have forever changed me
from a lost soul
without hope or direction
to the captain of my future
forever to seek safe harbor
in a spanish seaside town
forever more to thirst for your smile
for your laugh
for you

she breaths
and the shadow of her hours
pass like rain
falling
shatter on the senses softly
like her words
they penetrate with such tender care
they swallow your heart with such slow and sweet thought
and she breaths
and you know she is near
you can feel the heat
you can sense the reality of her

she breaths
and in the exhalation gives life to the creatures
that haunt the dark places in each mans mind
the twisted thing that has no face
the thing that is all teeth
feeds on the soul
she breaths and the cold air is humbled by her presence
death fears her coming

everybody is chatting in the puzzle house
about her narrow mouth
and the spider she ate
her bent frame vomits sounds like pleasure or pain
slow open of her bluejean legs reveals nothing
but implies everything
he barks like a small dog
at the end of his mental leash
and he runs round in a quick circle and
squats before her spread and lets loose
wagging his virtual tail

the madmen run the place
and you can see it in their eyes
they write their version of history
on the walls
nobody can read it
sounds like gibberish
and thats one of the requirements of the job
is to be able to confuse
while looking dignified
at the puzzle house door

the puzzle is the mind
and nothing is more puzzling to me
than what she had in mind bringing me here
its a fun place
with books and games
laughter and joys
medications and dark nurse's
filled with murderous intents
escape the puzzle house if you dare

it was an august sun
slow and sure pushin itself up the sky
singing down at us
the air full and rich with summer
the bells on her ankle chimed
as she danced for me
a sweet smile on her lips
one just for me
and the smoke in her eyes
smouldering wants in her very soul
and i took her hand
and her wants
take them all night
take em as far as we could go

there in the dark
she rose to meet me
she let her hair flow
she let her gifts show
there in the dark
she gave herself to me
body and soul
and we danced all night
and we dreamed away our worlds
all in one fantastic night
she called out wild
and let it loose with a harsh cry
let herself go

wake in the night and laugh into each others eyes
weak at the knees but oh so strong in the heart
don't 'cha know shes my song
and i'm her instrument
made for this night in each others arms
don't 'cha know we have lived all our lives
to get ready for this moment right here
me to you
you for me
and the bells on her ankle chime
like wedding bells
the beads woven into her dreadlocks shine
like stars and planets in her universal mind

i carried her cross the threshold
and her love escaped her soft lips in a single gasp
as she peaked
there in my arms
and me in hers

tonight is forever
and has seemed to last just that long
i am so happy here with you
we are golden together my lover
and its always been that way
will be forever more