I guess if I expect those Stars to shine
After feeding you with such Best Fuel
Is too Centered of me; Aplombed in thine
To what a Selfless Course make so cruel
Though divine this Practice be; That for Cause
Will batter my Affairs to your Effect
Love's Stumble Folly of Words be my Boss
And employ me a Slave to your Prefect
Was it too much, then, to ask for a Wage
So my Resources can this Muse refill
Though Blind or Deaf; To ******* your Rage
And tell your Ego what it must Conceal.
Where the Open Mind dies, the Heart begins
And Opens once more to newly-found sins.