Danger and Play - Buck 65

Here’s a man who’s come apart pieces missing uncollected

His heart breaks for total strangers

He’s the one that’s undetected

The corridor is lying fallow

Going Blind he doesn’t care to know the truth

His better days are trapped in amber

Hard to read he lacked candor

Audience was rapt enamored

Tried to speak but cracked and stammered

Out of focus here’s a man who’s had his chance

His tired legs that shook like towers

Antlers mounted on the wall

Open books that look like flowers

Sounds of traffic like applause

Roaring sons and daughters chirping

The agony of Priapus

Warring Huns and water serpants

Salomé she dances for the prisoners of heaven’s jails with feet that barely

touch the ground

Seven gates

Seven veils

One by one they fall away

Now she’s left with secrets that could break the world

Indifferent and sophisticated

To this day the myth’s debated

Malevolent

Dismissed and hated

Just try not to lose your head

Between the devil and the deep blue sea she memorized the cruelest parts

Desperate wishes whispered to the patron saint of foolish hearts

Ladies of the corridor find themselves involved disgraced

Call the witness to their principles and deprecate the lack of taste

Ophelia the victim never asked to join this wicked threesome

Now she’s sitting all alone at water’s edge upon a tree stump

Listening to distant music

It’s hard to tell is there light within her heart or is it filled with deep

despair?

As she prepares her sleepless prayer she’ll pinch herself to keep aware and

quietly she goes insane

She wears a pretty dress her feet are bare

Hand-picked daisies in her lap

Heavy eyes exhausted mind she’s ready to begin her nap

Freezing water crystal clear

Ignore the pain

Dismiss the fear

She takes a moment for herself then into nature disappears

Carved in stone favorited and though preferred

When the evil demon’s down his frightening voice cannot be heard

The opposite is true as well

Damned to hell this fear of music

Dread of winter

Hearts turn phosphorescent soon

Seen through aching pains of windows

Dead of night and crescent moon

Fireworks on Holidays

Oregon will have it’s bridges to carry loads and take things said and turn them

into burning fires

Evil doesn’t make things dead

Diamonds that we feed the oceans

Words of honor we rescind

I was hanging in a stairwell the day she gave me to the wind