From the Shaman on Tour ( Shaman 0)

Shaman 0

I built a tower in the crowd
So close to the moon
That I opened the window
To summon the cherubs for a bout
I tuned the harp to calm the tribe
Vapor trails etched my skies
A Poet is born on the lips of a whore
And crucified on the wings of an angel.

Some bastard called this romance!
I dared and I longed
Where 're the absinths of yesterday?
On a pale stage I stood
And banged the drum.
Let it march
Love was stoned
When the dawn was broken
A weepin’ virgin
Screamed
“ FUCK IT! is this poetry?”
I’ll hire a hit man.
   Lucile!!

THIS FUCKING GRASS IS STALE.
I heard the bard wail………..