Oh, Ophelia
do I enchant you?
A private caller once,
a private caller twice,
and then I call you and you say you have not privately called.
supposedly, I have called you.
we talk about the bodies you are roaming in free, the physical reality of your detachment of me.
and you ask where is my misery,
how do I speak of unfaithfulness with glee?
did you not recognize my higher mind, my learnt understanding of the human spine, the passing pleasures of our intoxicated time?
I laugh and secretly you cry.
The angel at your side, your lucky stars - the devil on my shoulder, my imprisoning bars...I am fighting and you are marred.
God will test one day our war
God will test one day our evolution
I will be rewarded my sweat and blood
and you, what will reward you your lack of movement?
Still, I love you
Still, I have fallen in love with a bird
But, I am not a cage.
I am not manacled.
I am not waiting.
Insecurities speak, do you still love me? Do you miss me?
You murmur yes while half asleep.
You beg tomorrow, I beg to not weep.
I ask you for our dreams to into each other seep,
and as we deny our love in reality we let it grow in heat -
of the night we drift like Ophelia down the stream of death into our garden of flowered life...
A private caller once,
a private caller twice,
and then I call you and you say you have not privately called.
supposedly, I have called you.
we talk about the bodies you are roaming in free, the physical reality of your detachment of me.
and you ask where is my misery,
how do I speak of unfaithfulness with glee?
did you not recognize my higher mind, my learnt understanding of the human spine, the passing pleasures of our intoxicated time?
I laugh and secretly you cry.
The angel at your side, your lucky stars - the devil on my shoulder, my imprisoning bars...I am fighting and you are marred.
God will test one day our war
God will test one day our evolution
I will be rewarded my sweat and blood
and you, what will reward you your lack of movement?
Still, I love you
Still, I have fallen in love with a bird
But, I am not a cage.
I am not manacled.
I am not waiting.
Insecurities speak, do you still love me? Do you miss me?
You murmur yes while half asleep.
You beg tomorrow, I beg to not weep.
I ask you for our dreams to into each other seep,
and as we deny our love in reality we let it grow in heat -
of the night we drift like Ophelia down the stream of death into our garden of flowered life...