Ballad in Plain D
I once loved a girl, her skin it was bronzeWith the innocence of a lamb, she was gentle like a fawnI courted her proudly but now she is goneGone as the season she’s taken
Through young summer’s breeze, I stole her awayFrom her mother and sister, though close did they stayEach one of them suffering from the failures of their dayWith strings of guilt they tried hard to guide us
Of the two sisters, I loved the youngWith sensitive instincts, she was the creative oneThe constant scapegoat, she was easily undoneBy the jealousy of others around her
For her parasite sister, I had no respectBound by her boredom, her pride to protectCountless visions of the other she’d reflectAs a crutch for her scenes and her society
Myself, for what I did, I cannot be excusedThe changes I was going through can’t even be usedFor the lies that I told her in hopes not to loseThe could-be dream-lover of my lifetime
With unknown consciousness, I possessed in my gripA magnificent mantelpiece, though its heart being chippedNoticing not that I’d already slippedTo a sin of love’s false security
From silhouetted anger to manufactured peaceAnswers of emptiness, voice vacanciesTill the tombstones of damage read me no questions but, “PleaseWhat’s wrong and what’s exactly the matter?”
And so it did happen like it could have been foreseenThe timeless explosion of fantasy’s dreamAt the peak of the night, the king and the queenTumbled all down into pieces
“The tragic figure!” her sister did shout“Leave her alone, God damn you, get out!”And I in my armor, turning aboutAnd nailing her to the ruins of her pettiness
Beneath a bare lightbulb the plaster did poundHer sister and I in a screaming battlegroundAnd she in between, the victim of soundSoon shattered as a child ’neath her shadows
All is gone, all is gone, admit it, take flightI gagged twice, doubled, tears blinding my sightMy mind it was mangled, I ran into the nightLeaving all of love’s ashes behind me
The wind knocks my window, the room it is wetThe words to say I’m sorry, I haven’t found yetI think of her often and hope whoever she’s metWill be fully aware of how precious she is
Ah, my friends from the prison, they ask unto me“How good, how good does it feel to be free?”And I answer them most mysteriously“Are birds free from the chains of the skyway?”