— unpredictable thoughts

Bal­lad in Plain D 1964

I once loved a girl, her skin it was bronze
With the inno­cence of a lamb, she was gen­tle like a fawn
I courted her proudly but now she is gone
Gone as the sea­son she’s taken

Through young summer’s breeze, I stole her away
From her mother and sis­ter, though close did they stay
Each one of them suf­fer­ing from the fail­ures of their day
With strings of guilt they tried hard to guide us

Of the two sis­ters, I loved the young
With sen­si­tive instincts, she was the cre­ative one
The con­stant scape­goat, she was eas­ily undone
By the jeal­ousy of oth­ers around her

For her par­a­site sis­ter, I had no respect
Bound by her bore­dom, her pride to pro­tect
Count­less visions of the other she’d reflect
As a crutch for her scenes and her society

Myself, for what I did, I can­not be excused
The changes I was going through can’t even be used
For the lies that I told her in hopes not to lose
The could-be dream-lover of my lifetime

With unknown con­scious­ness, I pos­sessed in my grip
A mag­nif­i­cent man­tel­piece, though its heart being chipped
Notic­ing not that I’d already slipped
To a sin of love’s false security

From sil­hou­et­ted anger to man­u­fac­tured peace
Answers of empti­ness, voice vacan­cies
Till the tomb­stones of dam­age read me no ques­tions but, “Please
What’s wrong and what’s exactly the matter?”

And so it did hap­pen like it could have been fore­seen
The time­less explo­sion of fantasy’s dream
At the peak of the night, the king and the queen
Tum­bled 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 about
And nail­ing her to the ruins of her pettiness

Beneath a bare light­bulb the plas­ter did pound
Her sis­ter and I in a scream­ing bat­tle­ground
And she in between, the vic­tim of sound
Soon shat­tered as a child ’neath her shadows

All is gone, all is gone, admit it, take flight
I gagged twice, dou­bled, tears blind­ing my sight
My mind it was man­gled, I ran into the night
Leav­ing all of love’s ashes behind me

The wind knocks my win­dow, the room it is wet
The words to say I’m sorry, I haven’t found yet
I think of her often and hope who­ever she’s met
Will 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?”