Some kind of magic
Sometimes, I rhyme. Either on those nights when the moon is a wolf-bitten piece of yellow cheese and howling at it makes no difference. Or pretty much whenever the fuck I feel like.
Everyday she walks by. Same time, never late
Always sad. Always immaculate
Don’t know where she comes from. Or where the fuck she goes
Breaks my heart every time. With the glances she throws
Makes me wonder. Makes me think
Makes me sometimes miss a drink
Tells me nothing. Yet I hear such a lot
I feel like the hero in an impossible plot
She walks by calm. Measured and sentient
While I feel like a storm. Twisted and bent
I stand by watching. Raging silently inside
While she looks at the road. With nothing to hide
My instincts have taught me — something’s got to give
Nothing’s ever this balanced if you really want to live
Life is not an equation. It’s a fucking joke
Sometimes you laugh at it. At other times you smoke
So where is her master key? What makes her stick?
How does she stay so still when the whole world’s sick?
How does she keep it going? Every day and every hour?
Floating in a ditch of shit like a touch-me-not flower?
Does she have a secret chant? A long forgotten trick?
One that makes her strong as steel. And incredibly quick
To gauge what bleeds the soul and get the fuck away from it
Purge the venom from inside her by inducing vomit?
I don’t know how she does it. But I know I want to
And if I haven’t said it before — Lady, I want you
I also know I never will. My heart’s under siege
So it’s magic time all over again — the pledge, the turn and prestige