My Cactus, my Rose
My cactus, my rose, my tongue-tied prose
tell me: What shall I do with you?
The melody's near gone
all that remains of our song
is the section that leaves you blue
The strings of stars strung backwards,
the laces of evening undone,
The conductor of Time's deep breathing
has sobered from the wine that he's drunk
My fisherman's lines, my shore leave crimes
no longer seem to impress
The elixir we drank after the first hearse sank
can't get us out of this mess
Payphones and carrier pigeons,
half-closed eyes and candle wax tongues
Two hearts built a labyrinth of prisons
to capture a song once sung