that ***** old scumbag
but thats the thing
he wasnt really

like the rest of us
caught in a web
he did what he had to do

one of the few who was kind to
me in my folly
he remembered that im a human being
when all others just saw meat
i hope when i go someone remembers me
better than they have him

a couple of young kids
left him od'd in a bathtub
in a eviction apartment
like some peice of old furnature

goodbye my friend
i hope you find peace on the other side

she rides her mountain bike
in the sun
dreadlocks fluttering behind like streamers
shes all smiles
as we come to our spot by the river
this beautiful place called fiveashes
and unpack the picnic basket
the world itself is beautiful when i'm with her
time itself loves her essence
even the graffiti looks like love letters the world
has written for her alone

theres something darkly romantic
about the nights down by fiveashes
something about thouse long miles
flying by on nightbreeze
with her hand in mine
with her lips on mine
its like a valley safe from the worlds seein
a place where naked and free we can be just we

down by fiveashes
the backseat of our buick is on fire
with her passions
and the lust in my soul
and theres something darkly romantic
about the humid warm air  and how her shirt clings to her **** skin
about the songbirds opening up the mysterious day
like a gift for the dreadlock girls that shine

she lay with me tangled in her afterwards
as we watch the stars and catch our breath
i taste her on my lips
i can taste her on my soul
like shes a sunrise
rapidly banishing my life's shadows
and breathing life itself into my heart

heavy traffic
so we stash ourselves in the publix parking lot
and watch the flashes of the departing thunderstorm
she lays out on the buicks hood in a bikini top
a bead of sweat kisses her bellybutton
her thick dreadlocks spread like ropes
i pick one up and stick it in her ear
shes not happy with that

afternoon is all sunshine and watered down sodas
isles of plastic goodies and elevator musics
the old woman pushing her empty cart while dragging a bag
she goes to get her nails done
i push pebbles into parking lot puddles
and watch the sky drift in the reflection

she is half my age
she sticks her tongue in my ear
i dont mind
there are palm trees and lizzards everywhere
and pebbles in puddles
im a pebble and shes my puddle
shes all wet
im hard

we laugh in the forever summer sunshine
we dance in the parking lot puddles
of the fiveashes publix lot
and daydream the stars above
this is no ordinary love
this is passion's fire in the hearts eyes
shes my jezebel
im her poet

the tide of the days winds shifted
and the sunlight submerged returns
she lay in the pieces of sunshine
sculpture of dreads and beads
fine tuned erotica machine
with a heart of gold and trinkets of silver
she rests one arm across me
i savour its textures and its tastes on the mind
grains of sand along the line of her delicate form
i chase each one with fingertip
she smiles with wicked intents of her own
the sun melts us into eachother with sinful delights
i taste her on my very soul

later we sip wine in the shade with
cheese bread and meats
she rests her head on my shoulder
holding one of my hands in both of hers
playing with my fingers
and speaking to me with her caress
tells me of her love renewed with each heartbeat we share
i put on some music
a french girl who sings sweetly of her days as a child
and thinking of sweet paris
we sit and watch the beach struggle with the sea
we sit and watch the wandering people playing in the sun

her barely there bikini covered
with my van heusen suit shirt
we leave the beach to the gulls and turns
we leave the day to the evenings handiwork
strolling the garden path back to our house
carrying picnic basket and and things
i will make dinner and we will watch
the moonrise on the sea
sleep will give us tomorrow
to love one another again

you do magical things to me
bring out the the compassion and hope
you entice the gentle heart in me
i know its because you are magical yourself
i see it in everything about you
i see it in how i am captivated by your eyes
by the suggestion of you in the deepest dreams of my soul
like dreamlight crafted in hearts warmth
you haunt me

standing here at my crossroads
with you sweetly on my mind
will i ever find my way home to hear your gentle laugh
to your tender embrace
will i ever really have a home again
now that your so far away
dreamlight crafted in hearts warmth you will forever remain

forever here at my crossroads
edge of the deep sea
and the wild lonely desert
forever looking to distant shore and the memory of you
the taste of you on my soul
dreamlight crafted in your hearts warmth
means so much to me
you are the song my heart breaths

the summer sun hangs overhead
held there by her dreamy heart...
softly painting heavens with the fluffy clouds
softly illustrating passions devoted kiss from
the delicate dance lovebirds do in the
beautiful summer air...
she writes me romantic stories as
the first stars to pierce the
tide of evening skies
washes away the last of summer afternoon...
with the gentle blessing of
her dreamy heart she entices me to her bed
and into her arms...
with wondrous stories she has found in
the summer eve's graceful song
she tells our profound love story
set against summers beautiful day...
everyday we find each other's sweetest desires
in each others dreamy eyes

in the evening tide
a remark of the world washed ashore
written with the driftwood's obscure tongue
its twisted words spun round itself
polished and worn to resemble the bones
of the world itself which birthed it
it spoke of a mystical place over the far salty seas horizon
spoke soft of a place where wilderness lived
and freedom thrived in a sheltered place
it spoke to me that it had crossed oceans of time
to lead me on adventures tale
to reclaim this mystical throne
to live in this far off grand palace of trees and glens
a magical place where my cares would not follow
where i could carve my own fate
from the rough sea
where a lover waited for me
wrapped in silks mystery's
so i set out swift as sunrise
set out following destiny

she sat on a driftwood throne
at her feet lay the ruins of a stone man
her hair a wild world of winds draws you into her hurricane eyes
her lip a forest of meanings tender and soft
a single loose tear like a wild horse run free
she sat on a driftwood throne in all her glory
sun and salt water cadence to the living breathing dream
song of existence untainted

and now another song intrudes
one of loves lionhearted and bold
seafarer's son come of age
come seeking courtship of her soft hand
to be bound in the silken desire's both hot and sweet
and the dark ones such shy girl dare not speak

he brushes away the sand from her soft thigh
and within his mind romances such sweet
tender spot with a reign of kisses
but just then she arose graceful like the soft beatings of dove's wing
and emerging from the veil of his minds fanciful dreams
she laid before him her sandpaper eyes
so intense that summer sounds
like children at play and such soothing tones
could not hide her behind
he withdraws still no more than a child in her eyes
she desires a stronger, a true love
one that is not a fleeting fancy dream
one of a man who can speak his heart

the sand had invaded her driftwood throne
so into the dusk she sauntered slowly
with graceful flow
trailing his eyes behind her like glories of wishes
like worshiping doves
for such beauties perfection
he will return some day a man
once he has learned

drill
i thought i left all this madness behind
thought it was a product of the eighties
but there in my rearview mirror
the narrative of single form insanity is closing the gap
the mystery engine
glides on the silent motion of daily demise
drill

drill
all thouse years ago
it was a simple affair you see
it was all just a song and dance away
a soft shoe shuffle
to get some medication
and a chat with a sympathetic plastic face
back in thouse whacky good ole days
in New York's sunny
nineteen eighties
drill

drill
someone is slipping in behind me
knife in hand'
they are plotting
i should just run while iv got a chance
the gate is open
and there is some ****** thing she is offering
at the end of the road just there round the bend
if i plunder today for tomorrows bankrupt mind  
drill

drill
i am sitting here in a dark room
asking that will you please hold my hand
the walls have closed in and im waiting for voices
waiting for the slow slide into the dark
please take leave of your schedule
and pencil me in for some ****** help please
drill

drill
its raining outside
and there is a wood at the end of the lane
im sure i could slip away unseen
repair the once great engine
that destroyed
rebuild the great machine that once
wreaked havoc
lets just drill thru the protective cover
and get our greasy little fingers on this trigger

morning seeps into the minds eye
like a process of madness
and as this place revealed
as this method is unveiled
the screaming, throwing things, acting out
thats expected seems to be a safe bet
the pout of childish behavior seems inevitable
i pause and wish i could find an easier way
i dont want to try suicide again
that ran out of entertainment value a long time ago
when a good friend succeeded

leaving my hopes and dreams in a small pile
that looks too much like litter
and makes me sad
cause now i know its really over
your really gone
and your never comin home
we are never gonna watch that german sunrise
on a western shore bungalow
gather up my belongings
and my heartstring longings
and step gingerly carefully onto the hardpack
lean out onto the road
put out my thumb
and begin to whistle softly some nineteen eighty eight tune
fastbender

drill into the the mislabeled logic
past the protective layers
and get your greasy fingers round this
you second generation second rate  hippy fu^^face
time is up and your lies are thin
gimmie my due or gimmie my leave
stop with the ******-social babble
and talk to me
or let me out of this monkey house

with a words full of soft smiles
she gently slides me into a mistake free zone
she gives me a cup of joe and a comfy chair
in the waiting room
pauses to give a wary glance to my
backpack and filthy jeans
but thats quite allright she seems to say
a rubber stamp will give a glancing blow
knock the dirt from this
plundered one
she sits down at her desk and pushes the keys
setting the engine in motion
the machine in gear
to end this long day

ill find some peace and comfort
soon enough i tell myself
in some quiet corner or room
padded by charity
medicated by soft compassion
soft compassion drilling into exposed bone

light a match to the dry eyed heart
bring back the romance
bring back your heart
while there is life there is hope
you've been through the darkness
now come back to the light
the world needs bold hearts like yours
bring the love you have in you
bring it home
light a match to the dry eyed heart
bring back the romance
bring back the light

lost horizon
daylight streams down her face
liquid it expresses her hope

a ship adrift on the open sea
with only the dump-ducks to herald her passing
her tiller tied off on a course for the Flemish Cap

deep in the rolling North Atlantic waves the
sounds of the sea begin to speak to you
they weave tales on rainswept deck
they sing shanty's on the lines for the mainsail

the sea is a living thing
with her many moods
and utter crisp beauty

in a dead calm, middle of the Atlantic
no clouds
the stars reflected perfectly off the water
and you are afloat in a sea of lights
iv never seen anything more moving

but beware my friend
she is friend and a foe
i lost a friend out on thouse endless miles
his ship adrift
tiller tied off on a course for the Flemish cap

if you go to sea
be respectful
of the grand dame
and she will show you wonders that will
capture your soul

dustbunny's lonly heart
lay neith the chair
her fine hair flowin
her grey dress as beautiful as can be
she sat the quiet summer day
waiting for a passing breeze
knew he would come for her
someday
once she was the beauty queen
all the other bunnys
crowed round
admiring her fine fine looks
but as they passed this chair
she got caught in a crevice
and watched as the rest of the
bunnys swept along on the breeze
laughing and playing
living the bunny dream
she has waited here
for the breeze man to pick her up
and take her back to her friends
but little did she know
that the people who owned the house
had fixed the broken window
and breeze man couldnt come to rescue her
instead a terrible fate awaited her
vacuum cleaner girl
was gonna find her
and eat her
breeze man beat upon the window
trying to find her
but vacuum girl really *****
and in the end
she found
dustbunny

dust devil spins up into the air
as your boot scrapes the pavement
a fair amount of echo lends surreal edge
but the cool heavy wet night air labors on your chest
the trailing edge of sunlight slips along a silent horizon
and fades into her hair

beads of sweat along her lip
which move slightly as inside her complicated mind
she sings her song
the sunlight carves edges along her supple form
harsh and dense against her her soft giving skin
point and counterpoint
pull myself up ontop of her
grind our sweat into one
her eyes flutter open and focus on mine
her mouth moves over my name
with a verbal caress that has intentions
but they remain unrevealed

she tastes the wine
and takes small measure of the bread
seeming to relish the textures
but its distracted thought that slows her progression

the world has gone
and its just the room that
negotiates with you attentions
fill and expend, fill and expend
the echoes have grown worse
till they thunder in your mind
and still there is no clear path
there is no future seen that dose not contain
dust devils in the soul
fill and expend
but your desert can never be greensward
your emptiness can never be

she sleeps
and you walk slowly to the door
open it  and out into the wall of heat
and sound
faces and eyes
there is no escape
there is no staying
you must go

i have become the dust devil
evaporate in the air
no deeper knowledge need be spoken
i am as empty as the air

irksome thoughts spin round the moment
and they flee to where iv fled to
and they tap out strange messages on my head
and they gather dust into piles
and the piles grow to hills with the
passing hours and changing landscapes of the heartstring
strings are for kittens to play with
chase round and round

she lay in the shade of an oak tree
by the roadside
in the dust hills
sipping her long island
and watching the road with languid eyes
leaf floats down and
unattached from the dream
she wanders
the dust hills wailing for lost loves not her own
and berating thouse resposible for every
slight ever felt

headlights bath the dust hills
as eighteen wheelers truck
the empire of america ever southward
into the cheaply painted tropical sun
she is bikini clad
and is forever clutching an ice cold drink
that eternaly leaves a smile on
her forever blemish free smile
in the ***** dark dust hills

i feel so alone here by her side
i want to run away
and sleep in a feild
with the ****** and the drunkard
with the apostles of night

when all your stories have been told
when you can no longer invent a twisting tale
that will captivate
that will romanticize
that will fill the heart with images of beauty and
lost love returned at long last
when the ink has dried on your last tale
and all the shadows of characters that
live on in your memories imagination
have been lost in the dusts of time
will you write me a song
to keep my lonely heart amused
while i wait here by the dying fire
waiting to hear your footsteps coming home to me
waiting to hold you close to me
while you whisper tales of your travels
while you whisper tales meant to distract me
from the stain on your hand
i see it so clearly but i try to blind myself
i curse my weak heart for doubting
i can clearly hear the lie in your eyes
but i can only think of your sweet lips upon mine
your cold words have frozen my heart
and i lay awake till past dawn
hoping beyond hope
i know one day you will fail to return
but i cling to our brief moments
i cling to the wish
long after wishing had failed
sit and stare into the dying flames
numb to truth
numb to lies

the crows narrated his approach
as if devising his doom
but scatter to springs crisp air
as he drew near
crying out as they took to wing
an odd forlorn song that crows speak
in the front yard he pauses in the wild weeds and litter
he pushes open the door
and cool dark silences greet him
he steps inside and a crow lands on the lawn
its strange eye leveled at him

inside the house he lay on the stained mattress
with the full weight of his own mind on him
restless he spins on the sheets and
wrestles the blanket for answers it dose not contain
eventually he just sits by the grey stain of a window
and watches the slow clockwork precision that
night consumes day like a glutton with dinners three fold

night is stillness in the house
he sits on the front step barefoot among the
leaves cast aside by the living world
each a unique face gone dark by deaths hand
gathered here by twisting winds
to find comfort in mutual decay
like parched lips feeling for the condensation of souls
lain out for burial
the dead are wet leaves stacked in the heart
sweep them up and tenderly carry them to pyre
release me from this earthly tomb

in the grey of morning
he walks barefoot still across the lawn
decorated with litter and weeds
to the broken fence
when a single crow
utters its soulful cry
the dead are wet
release them from this earthly tomb

old saint bob
whacks a hefty tune out on a beer barrel
full of noise and nuance
like a dammed version of samson
tearing down these city walls
and like a blessed version of delilah
walking in mystical light

saint bob has a penny opera vocal
on his thin mans frame
but all the pretty girls say he's got a  voice like sin
and the eyes of an angel
they are all a-flutter at his nearness
hes there just off shore if you look with care

old saint bob and elston gunn
had taken to the waves hoping
to be saltwater henchmen in such grand style
only to be shipwrecked in the strip malls
of suburbia with the catholic schoolgirls and
the paint by number sinners and saints

old saint bob and the charlatans of love and loathing
sit with a *** runner and swap sea stories
on the deck of an english privateer called penance
hoping to salvage the folly of their youth
but they have drank themselves to a fitful slumber
and the *** runner has fled with the gold

while all good sailors romance ladies of spain
old saint bob held out an old tin cup
and a hooligans song
by the sunbelt highway
one of the lover girls by his side
she so in love with his rough jester lost and lonely style
he will make it home someday
but he will only come if it can be
with a peg leg and a parrot on his shoulder
in grand style

he seeks shelter from the rain
in the coffee shop
she offers him a cup of joe
she offers a moment to reflect

the hipsters and hangers about
fill her world with sight and sound
fill her senses with smiles and joy
but inside she know she needs something more
that this place is just an emblem
and cannot sustain a soul like her

she could have anything
she just need ask
but she cant find the words to describe
cant find an image to convey
her souls need

but its clear to him
its a ship sailing to distant spain
its a road leading out into a western desert
its a train rolling thru a dark stormy night to a northern town
its a footpath thru mist
its a man seeking shelter from the rain

he leaves with her smile
which she gave with a hopefull heart

now
wrestle with the shadows in his heart
but its her face that lingers
in the late hour
in this last time he will stand

the standards of the champions
the fighters for truth
the liars
and the ones too dark to do else but die
they gather in harsh light
and prepare to do battle and stand their ground

a prince of the beasts proud and fair
a champion to the ones who have no strength to call their own
the frame of time captures only the movement
but the fickle thought of who he is
prince of beasts proud and fair
champion of the clean linen uniform
regal bearer of the standard of a rising sun

reflected only in the young eyes
those cheering champions like him on from the side
but its only her smile that lingers for him
as his life flows spent onto the sand

she never did catch that train
never did escape that shop
never did grow beyond the borders
of the hipsters and hangers on
but least they loved her too
in their way
and that is some comfort

she has dangerous thoughts
in her hello kitty slippers
she shines when thouse around her can only sparkle
there are dark angels in her stuffed bear collection
shes a gothic stoner emo-warrior princess
she wants to be heard
and its dreamy things shes gonna say
shes sketched in beautiful ways in my heart

the day done
she drifts in with the tide
washes up on my shore with
the tattered remains
of her girlhoods smile
in a keepsake box in the
pocket of her long grey coat
she speaks her thoughts but they are
tangled like seaweed
worn and worn like driftwood
she tells me her intents
and the lost sailor aspects of her soul
and her words linger on the air
like kestrels in the breaking of a storm
wheeling high above
wheeling high above
and the tears flow quietly
each one burning slowly into
my heart
I turn out and set sail
into the inky sea
blind to the trail
but rather than face her downfall
I attach myself to the darkness with a passion
of the task of finding my handmadien
of scorned empire
and saving her from herself
and all her internal wars
she was a shy young woman
in the years on denvers river road
a shatterproof demo for the better living
to be found just the other side of that
infamouse greener grass
that keeping up gets you in the end
a byproduct of the heart attack they give you
at no extra charge
standing naked feeling all kinds of uncomfortable
they question everything except your sanity
they are sure that's the one thing you've lost
I get her home at last
only to find she is nearly only
a chocolate bunny that's been chewed on
and her words telling me she must leave
are just forebodings of nightmares she gets
about Easter egg hunts
and viper roughness of being eaten alive

fresh tracks into the distance
well past midnight
the streetlight afterimage reflected in pools of
unblemished rainwater
stirs with slow echoes of the night
stirs with the slow echoes of the summer

keepsakes she quickly squirrels away
in the tiny pocket sewn into
her deep blue dress
the tiny pocket where she has a
lock of his hair
a picture of the ship he sailed off to sea on
a note he left her telling her
that he would dream of her

now the keepsakes she puts away
are twigs from a tree
a peice of plastic from a beach
bits of things that her wandering mind
grasped upon with a smiling fancy
on a stormy night September 1932
his ship was lost with all hands

all these years she waits
all these years she keeps vigil by the shore
gathering strands of the world
driftwood of lives cast off like her own
set adrift without particular place to be
and she has been lost
in mind and body
waiting for him to return

fresh tracks into the night
well past midnight
the streetlights image reflected
changes slowly
to show a figure walking carefully up the lane
his steps trying to remember
where they had been once before

was he returning
was he just a shadow or dream
she held her breath in delight and in trepidation

in the first light of day
her empty home lay quiet

her endless summer dream
gathers dust on its sand encrusted photo of
beach blanket love affairs

jet planes departing for distant lands
she had her five and dime sunglasses
and a transistor radio
tuned to the cheerful forever summer song
still has that picture of her in the fall of 66
hamming it up for the camera with her Stanley
he passed a while back

now she shuffles up along the seawall
with her big hat and her bags
candy for little ones
a kiss on the cheek for the nice
young man who brings the paper
its miami in febuary
its endless summer
its brighton beach's southside
and i know ill have to stay

i reach in and silently grasp
the motionless windsong
the captured bird
and with deft fingers release its bindings
with a phrase give tender to its
timid fire
with intent i set in motion the
captivation by slow roses
the freedom by the scarce better graces
of humanity's collective soul

the thoughts are sticky
engraved with each meaning softly embedded
into its thick skin

the carefully crafted box
of her smile
each detail lovingly attended
each lined honed with precision
she fine tunes her perfect form
and spray bottles the scents
one for public consumption
the other for me alone
enthrones her earrings in edible lobes
and with zealous care places a bead necklace
in the sweating sweet expanse of naked skin
of her open polo shirt collar
shakes out her hair
with a little version of dancing sitting down
while singing along with phish
and then  she catches me open lustful staring
and laughs
'want some...come get it babe'

her tennis outfit
misplaced on the shopping center floor
is neatly wrapped around her in a mixture
of loose and tight
devious adventure for the eyes

an autumn songbird gives voice to the luxurious late day
beautiful its song caresses the ear
all natural world breathing as one with your heart
as the sun itself kisses you tenderly
as if saying farewell to you and the day
and as the sun slips to the horizon
you close your eyes and can feel heart take to wing
with the autumn songbird playful in the crisp air
feel your soul breath and soar among the clouds
floating in the warm breeze of
that eternal summer dream where
everyone is forever young and in love
forever happy and filled with wonder
the autumn songbird fills me with her song
fills me with the strength of possible beauty that the new day promises
fills me with the peace found at the heart of kindness
so will you join me
rejoicing her song
will you take a moment to breath in
the wonder of late autumn summery day

the hour slips by without a sound
and through the looking glass window
the days unfolding scene
gives life and motion
to the surreal stillness within
the silent theatricals of man and beast
strive and fail under the shifting skies
like the rise and fall of nameless empires
their brilliant banners swiftly stirred by
the storms and seas

i walk along the fresh laid carpet
with bare feet feeling the texture
and stand at the doorway
with its wooden contraptions ajar to allow breezes
to walk into the dark house

the heavy presence of paint on the air
and the devices of workmen underfoot
soon will fade to memory as our polished lives
are neatly adorned and trimmed
we have become what we dread
civilized

she walks from the bedroom
wearing nothing but her dreadlocks
as i finish making dinner
we have duck and wild rice
i teach her some ballroom dancing steps
we laugh and whisper
the night has come to its fading
and though we are restless
we trek to our bed
and wrestle eachother to sleep

this is evening with her
and our elegant love affair

faded roses on the wallpaper
leaves bent back in an imagined wind
fingerprints of a thunderstorm cling to the wet image
she says it was a lovely thought that gave birth to such beautiful drawings
that any child could see many adventures to be
in such lovely daydreams
a place where the child of her heart could run free
decorated with faded roses
celebrated by teddy bears and tea sets
on long summer afternoons in the beautiful sunshine
while brothers and others chased firefly's
like days of old aeroplanes
dogfighting daredevils in the forever blaze of glory
swashbucklers that save the day and win the girl
ride off into the sunset
tv screen fades to black
faded roses on the wallpaper are all that remain
sunbaked in the passing years
a lovely thought that gave birth to our childhood
a swift dream
faded away

she gives nothing to the night
just waits quiet for its passing
here by the light of her candle
she waits as nights heavy feet slowly tread their intended path
as its myriad of small creatures
with their fanfares of babylon thunder and roll
their thousands voices wailing bitter and ceaseless
their thousands sharp claws rending the dreams from the dreamers

here in the prayers of her soulful reflections
she hears nights dark hand tapping at her door
hoping in vain to unleash her upon the free winds
hoping to strip away her adornments like a tissue of lies
so that she would stand as innocence in moonlight
with her perfections and beauties to be loved by the sea
until she was empty

here in the cradle of her hour
she awaits the fairer face of dawn
whom with lighted step and naught but the
chimes of birdsong shall usher away the
last of nights rabble sweeping them gently aside
with dawns ever sweet natures
to find and comfort all thouse
waiting for the redemptions that the light of day
sheds upon all thouse who fear they have been slandered by nights hand
she timidly opens her haven
as dawn moves past
and with childlike smiles she steps to the path of her ventures
till night come speeding down the dusty road once again seeking the hand of fairest maidens once again when day flees
to her wearied bed in the west

moody girl
resting her head on me
while i purge my thoughts to the page
spilling like a dark red wine
its all sticky but the words lay down
in complacent indifference
i **** them with a wooden stick
wishing they would run and fly
wishing they would speak with their own voice
but they only give a sluggish lip service to the effort
she is breathing a sleepy word of her own from my lap
lover
i type with one hand while the other is wrapped up in her dreadlocks
this is my gem moment of the day
we are alone
and all the day is behind us
twilight gathers us in its gentle arms
and i can just live in the moment
i can explore her
always some new way to see this complex girl
always some new way to be with her beautiful loves
she makes my heart seaworthy
the depth her articulate eyes say things to me
that i would never had dreamt
the storybook of her open face speaks to me
romances me with her fairytale heart
i am her prince
she is my bride