Someday Never Comes/Puff it Out Again

Inhale painful memories.  
Exhale inhibitions.  
Inhale painful memories.  
Exhale inhibitions.  
 
Here I am,  
flying high on an eagle  
swirling through the clouds.  
 
There is fire on the ground,  
but the sky is clear of lightning.  
 
There is an earth below.  
The flowers are consumed by weeds.  
The tide eats more than the sand when in it flows.  
 
Breath the breadth of your angst,  
and let go of your foolish desires.  
Who needs a horse and a fence?  
Who needs to be Desperado?  
 
I am an extraterrestrial with no interest in humans, not a one.  
From my spaceship, I can see their land full of pimps and whores  
and cartels no better than the other fight for their own gene of what's wrong and right.  
 
No, I must confess that I was born of that and lived to love in that land  
until my heart was taken by moving thorns  
and eaten by the Dark Forest  
from which no one returns.  
 
I must digress, "All the whores were princesses. Beyond which there was no beauty in the world."  
 
Respire, expire; come on. You're getting uneasy.  
 
Inhale troubled Memorex.  
Exhale lust and claim.  
 
I am a star two clicks away,  
and I live to be praised,  
but not loved. That would make me into a pity.  
I have a cosm of my own and a gravity to command a fanship over my arms.  
 
Still, to be true, I am a failed light.  
I never had a thing like Earth in my orbit.  
My kingdom is planets of fire.  
Oh, my air! My lungs collapse.  
 
Inhale painful memories.  
These memories will have not taste or morsel.  
They will be dark enough  
to scare me away from this plot of land forever.  
 
Do you know how the Round Table fell?  
Lancelot was forced away from Arthur's Guinevere  
and became a lone hermit,  
and Guinevere became a nun to never taste the hearty red apple of true devotion again.  
 
I might have had a Guinevere  
in a former life  
and was cursed to live without her again in the life to come.  
 
If it is true, I know why I ride my tulip white horse on the rainbow  
and bottle the angels' tears of rain.  
 
A romantic  
in a story that was never meant to be.  
Steady yourself.  
Easy.  
You're pressed against a stethoscope.  
 
Inhale painful memories, painful, painful memories,  
and exhale the very entire of your inhibitions.