I want to control the stars
and not let them control me.
The tides have a mind of their own
especially when battered by the storm.
That counterpoint sliver moon, over me
eclipsing the sun?
That silver moon is an illusion
dancing and prancing with that shit-eating grin one week
and a pregnant belly the next.
Still, there she is.
Is it that time of the month...
You relentless now clock.
What the fuck does it mean anyway:
"life is an illusion?"
Give me a break...
spiritual parlor tricks I say.
I wash the dirt, and sweat, and blood off of my soul daily.
My body too.
So here we go...grabbing on to nothing again
Goddamn queens of denial.
Imagine THIS arrogant bitches:
bam, slice, crack, smack, coo, ah, yes, more, less,
Imagine, if I controlled the moon!
I reckon I'd still be malcontent...
Wooden eyes...still seeing what they want.
"Listen up you Sun!"
now THERE'S some truth!
No one gets out alone.
Not me, not you, them, they or those too.
No, no, no
Make no mistake!
What if this IS all i really know?
maybe that's the only way to go.
And whether she controls me, or I her,
there's no way to know
Maybe that's not the point
in this sometimes reckless tugo' war,
this tango slam dance
this sometimes unwelcome penetration.
I hold on...
to nothing...to something that fits like a glove...
in the end
it's really hard
to know what to love.