I sit alone with Poe in hand Dreaming of a distant land Where merry hearts may make me mad Unable to share in tidings glad For my heart is a fool's resource Blundering ahead without remorse Unable to blink or alter course Drawn forward by an insidious force Some call it love and fate And in these tones I've learned to hate My own emotions adhere like a pox By my own mind I'm incessantly mocked She will never be and you never were No matter how powerful emotions stir Your music falls short Your form too bleak Her heart reports When another man speaks In time you'll be silenced So flee far away And forever regret Every moment of each day Her voice strikes your ears Her form, piercing heart What you long for, dear fool You will never be a part You'll forever be apart And your heart from the start In its dying form of art Romanticists are fools Adorned with fewer jewels At least the jester, for his while Can summon up a smile The romantic and his pen Will bleed again and again ****** paper with their prose As their inner angst grows And their soul, yes it knows All the walls and the "no's" Never to be free Never will she be Never will she see Never is for me Yet I am many things marvelous A shining, beautiful treasure My task ahead is arduous But I'm a renaissance man of measure For your pleasure A dancing fool Who is almost not good enough Or barred by premonition's view Though a diamond in the rough I just know I must go Perhaps to show To deal the blow That breaks us mortal men To repeat this pattern Again and Again And Again And Again