|
Nelson |
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Room in the east invested with meanings, |
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Open to none but the strange and the wild |
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Sunset encounters with destiny's chances, |
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Envelopes marked for the personal life |
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Night falling, hiding the poets transgression, |
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Blown in the winds of aquarian tides |
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Echoed words spoken by token romantics |
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Rock 'n roll supermen, |
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Ghosts of new vice. |
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Making love in strange autos whilst lifes ink |
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sings always |
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That love is swift arrows my dear |
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Oh, God in some heaven whose number |
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is seventeen |
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Dressed you in blue jeans this year |
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To torment my soul |
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Oh, leave me alone... |
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Rules to be broken by reckless and young men, |
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Odes to be written by passions sick hand |
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Seeds to be sown on the rich fields of promise, |
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Ends and beginnings that never quite meet |
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Nothing of value that hasn't yet vanished, |
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Brown-eyed and wise as the feminine fates |
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Evening's sweet menace, revealing, inviting, |
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Highways to paradise |
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Grey lines of grace. |
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Making love in strange autos whilst lifes ink |
|
sings always |
|
That love is swift arrows my dear |
|
Oh, God in some heaven whose number |
|
is seventeen |
|
Dressed you in blue jeans this year |
|
To torment my soul |
|
Oh, leave me alone... |
