She walks in from the cold, pristine in the dimming lights
Like a snowflake melting in my open hands. Subtle, sliding
From corner to corner, taking in the room with shimmering
Hazelwood eyes. Feeling quite unable, I make my way unstable
On six pack legs to the bar's deeper dregs; one more drink I
Just don't need. Tonight is tomorrow, as the dawn reaches out
For our little corner of the earth. When friends have made
Their goodbyes we'll slip off into the night; onto the beds that
Lay waiting like empty scabbards for dull blades. Home for
Wandering knights on the crusade of life. I'd rather not go alone.
So I ask her her name and she asks me why. Well, I could say
It's because fate pulled me here today, and the stars held sway
When you walked into this room, because my eyes were pulled
Right to you like a feather falling, a siren calling, a new day
Dawning. Instead I shrug, raise my bottle and tell her I'm
Obsessed with Plato; The Republic, and civil society. It's my
Duty, as philosopher and poet, armchair lauret to make her
Acquaintance and buy her a drink. She says she's Kristen,
And favors Rasputin; the mad monk of Russia. We sit and
Talk, about reading a man by his walk. Kill a bottle of Vodka.
Six years later we're screaming again. Like we have been
For longer than we were truly lovers, bed mates and bill
Partners who huddle together despite the miasma that
Lingers, to keep lonely wolves at bay. And she asks if I
Still like Plato, the Republic and all of that bullshit. I think
For a moment, -no, I say. I prefer Rasputin and chains around
My chest with bullets in my back. Fighting fate in the deep
Black waters of the Malaya Nevka for the chance to live
Again. She smiles, and those sienna eyes drown my pretense.
We may not be lovers, but we're partners; pitiful against the stars.
Like a snowflake melting in my open hands. Subtle, sliding
From corner to corner, taking in the room with shimmering
Hazelwood eyes. Feeling quite unable, I make my way unstable
On six pack legs to the bar's deeper dregs; one more drink I
Just don't need. Tonight is tomorrow, as the dawn reaches out
For our little corner of the earth. When friends have made
Their goodbyes we'll slip off into the night; onto the beds that
Lay waiting like empty scabbards for dull blades. Home for
Wandering knights on the crusade of life. I'd rather not go alone.
So I ask her her name and she asks me why. Well, I could say
It's because fate pulled me here today, and the stars held sway
When you walked into this room, because my eyes were pulled
Right to you like a feather falling, a siren calling, a new day
Dawning. Instead I shrug, raise my bottle and tell her I'm
Obsessed with Plato; The Republic, and civil society. It's my
Duty, as philosopher and poet, armchair lauret to make her
Acquaintance and buy her a drink. She says she's Kristen,
And favors Rasputin; the mad monk of Russia. We sit and
Talk, about reading a man by his walk. Kill a bottle of Vodka.
Six years later we're screaming again. Like we have been
For longer than we were truly lovers, bed mates and bill
Partners who huddle together despite the miasma that
Lingers, to keep lonely wolves at bay. And she asks if I
Still like Plato, the Republic and all of that bullshit. I think
For a moment, -no, I say. I prefer Rasputin and chains around
My chest with bullets in my back. Fighting fate in the deep
Black waters of the Malaya Nevka for the chance to live
Again. She smiles, and those sienna eyes drown my pretense.
We may not be lovers, but we're partners; pitiful against the stars.
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