Now haunted by the Spirit of song and dance,
I am alone in the gloom of my defeat.
Once a poor prey to burning fits of vanity,
Now cast out with black wings of rebellion,
A garment of violence and a crown of pride.

The sky grew dimmer,
Bright lights of divine release and relief
Now forgone,
Sparkling golden roads and pearl white gates
Now behind me.

With no untold strange angst,
All the world knows of this deeper impulse given
to me by loneliness.
Once a beautiful body, now bent back like a
Paper clip.
Bright and Morning Star I am no more.

A fallen angel with an objective:
I am the Swindler of Divine Romance.