What seraphs say
When night falls and the crickets croak,
And I'm bare and my thoughts go rogue,
I hear them
These angels you call, with their great wings,
Are but like us mortals, those jealous things.
I hear them call, whispering in those hushed, darkling tones;
Promising me a land where the golden harp would be played by my merry moans.
But I am strong, I shut my eyes
And fill my head with the silver stag;
A toeless foot, a pointless compass
And lo! My head is nothing but a muddy black
But I am strong. I have still hope.
Yet closer they come, I can hear them laughing
Their crimson breath hot on my neck;
A few lines of a promising lullaby,
And I think I can smell the Eiffel
They promise me a speckled black dome,
A few cold kisses on the head;
A warm embrace that feels like May
And Christmastime in summer!
It's this at last that snaps the string,
Oh Stranger, what do they call you? I believe your name is fey;
You better tell me or these sinless demons will disclose it anyway
But I shan't be a lovesick pen,
It's weak, it's not me, I shan't
But again, am I not the most cowardly being that walks this earthy land?
The deal is done, those amber eyes alight
These fanged angels are my newfound friends;
Let me tell you again, they want nothing but lives
And they will have it in the end
My head hurts, the Eiffel smells stronger still
I don't think I can carry on
The thick air tells me to fight
And fight and fight and fight
But I am not strong. Do I have hope?