man must learn to aim
the stream that comes from within
so he is not soiled

Ms. Del Rey says “the world is made for two”,
but her idea of two is some fresh hell;
it’s seems that Lana thinks a girl’s abuse,
is cinematic fodder one can sell.
The other woman sings about her man.
“sO pOPuLIiSt” with flowers on her head.
While some may come from poor & tell the tale,
Del Rey wears being poor like it’s a dress. 
But voices that she channels in her songs,
Bespeak a femme fatale alone, and they,  
Are both no one, and everyone in one.
The guardians of endless summer days.

When walking on the cobbled sweating streets,
Through center town, I stop to have a drink.
Begrimmed the fog in valley sets to speak,
To visions of the “whats already seen”.

Like one who acts like god is here to give,
The mucid trace of once experienced:
Begets my physic, like a *****, and hence.
The lighting call of music down the lane.

The frisk and gambol sure‘d is my measure;
That I should keep on dancing like a child,
With youth by candle light and flushed with mead...
Not drowning now but flying promenade.

By the labyrinth of what’s Implied in thee,
I’m running through the halls of jubilee.
With longing to the forests edge I creep...
Imbibe upon the sweet lycanthropy.