As for the archaic lovers trapped in an interminable rose garden pardon your fatalism the weightless shards of whim the family intends its disenchantment as a matter of stolen fathers mine was borrowed apocalypse apocalypse
I'm so happy, I looked at the crowd I looked at my fans and I realized we are some partying motherfuckers
But as for the archaic lovers loose as butter on the hill I will have willed it as the rose frays into Porgy and Bess I will have said I'm less of an opera goer then I bend my dresses for him too many black men in prison so sharecrop again show me a ghetto robot that gives directions to watts and all those movies about being and nothingness grow so ornate by the seventies I am standing between him and darkness and my steady composure frightens us like ropes gnarl into kisses I think two people alone together is the bravest gift having left it unsaid do you even understand it I have loved you forever I have never left your side I am a coward and isn't that the bravery of me As for the archaic lovers young white knuckles make a whole system run in step with itself again I don't trust the monogamous I'm indifferent to the moralizing wives stranded in duty but the oneness is useful like a hungry currency Bill Withers come into me to watch the father's benevolence decide when to matter as violence
