The Byronic Man
As lonely as a poet on the Walls of JerichoOr the Moon without the comfort of the starsI am loath to know it that a man without a soulIs nothing but a split canopic jar
I proved it,improved itDrove a sonnet right through itAnd in this state of blissEvil kissed with wet lips, pen-filled fingertips
Which through me, far through meIlluminati usually pissedBut with words of some hurts worthI threw a party that extended God's list
Exciting new flames that my name would claim for meReciting back the almanac of travesties
They call me badMad Caliban with manners dangerous to knowA passing fadTaught in all debauched in excess and in canto
Grown wild,this childWhole harems defiledFaustina's and Mina'sLady Libertine and her sisters between her
What spread of lies,when lovers dieWhich circle of hell is mine when I arrive
They call me badMad Caliban with manners dangerous to knowA passing fadTaught in all debauched crow against the virgin snow
Grown colder, my shoulderLike a boulder beside herAnd bolder,not wiserMy dark seed took up root inside her
That mouldered, when olderBeddings would hold a passionate sighBut Laudanum and soda,Lord Numb codaMerited a forest of inherited spite
Fleeing grief for foreign mapsI still played vampire aristocratsUnloading my gun in hot promiscuous laps
Then shooting swans in gondolaI tripped my foot on a fallen starAnd there's nothing like a mouthful of Venetian tarTo let you know just who you fucking are
The patron saint of heartacheI can't see my world is fallingThe world is falling down
The patron saint of heartacheI can't see my world is falling downThe world is falling down
Everafter can they hear my laughterThe patron saint of heartacheNever craft a better bed of disasterThe patron saint of heartache
They call me badMad Caliban with manners dangerous to knowA passing fadTaught in all debauched in excess and in canto
They call me badMad Caliban with manners dangerous to knowA passing fadWhereupon I tell them to go fuck their mothersAnd so on my grave