Telling stories after dark Occasionally with Tom Waits in the lead Fantastical little allegories Bringing a light to those souls in need
No need to whisper in the shadows Luminous words to prepare the way Removing barriers to our enlightenment Witticisms fleshed out & on display
Short tales to get creative juices flowing Harking back to dreams that we might meet Subtle differences between the pauses Allowing our imaginations to properly greet
Scenes from our own round table Foreplay within our cheeky banter Conjuring visions of a keen passion Diluted memories at the bottom of our decanter
Bad behavior leads to a more examined life Though through fiction we can live eternal A little more sensitive than you want to believe Yearning to be held by a beautiful dame so maternal
Out here with our hearts raised to the sky Searching for better answers on the midnight shore With the freedom to imagine wisdom laid bare Parsed theories for when we sent them off to war
Subtle manipulation within our romantic esthetics Unreliable narrators marching; our literary brigade There’s no vernacular for hearts’ folly Pushing forth our gentle notion love might persuade
In the end, dear friends, our parable is contrite In this heinous world, we all have a simple choice I lay myself to slumber, a fatigued sailor Wishing for a lullaby coming from Nick Cave’s voice
Two lost souls, like beachcombers Looking for lost things; love & such Distant memories of happiness The feeling of being needed; a touch Nestled within a Siren’s lullaby We never could grasp our fate Shrugging off the daily struggles Our only choice is to circumnavigate