don't worry my darling my heart is bound by bandages
I've known your lusty randomness before
that quaint, phallic ego wandering down my corridors
if you're searching for that ancient girl you won't find her
she's faceless she's voiceless she's goddess lore

or were you fumbling for me in the dark?
I, the ever-burning, forgotten lark.
and you, the current incarnation of the ever-looping, earthly affliction: Desire, rejection, attraction, dejection
I'm not in on your benediction.

just don't fret my adorable ridiculous darling
her stone statue is bound to beckon you back into
your ritual-rendezvous
with imaginary tugs in you belly
and then your ego can flash out like a laser
to project yourself onto her
if she could move, you'd cage her
just to possess some small token of her favor
don't you understand? she's ancient ruins. you can't save her

but if stone loins could ache from bearing generation
she'd be renewed into youth not for your boyish veneration
or your wooing consternation
her laughter dances into diaspora incarnation
it's more than desire rejection attraction dejection
We're not in your benediction.

to you she's an image
she'd dancing like Shiva
adoring you with her whole heart and anonymous being
to me she's a yearning, visceral, insatiable
to break into recognizable individuals
if I couldn't be a beauty queen servant
you can bet I can't be an archetype dream
I'm so much more like you than you want me to seem
I got the same scared hands, in the dark, fumbling
I got the same slip-drop grip of any hominid wonderling

so you see, I'm not love struck
more like stunned or dumbstruck
by the smell of such a gushing gullible scent on your skin
you thought you'd just sneak up and get closer
but you'll wanna back up just enough so I can't breathe it in

oh desire oh rejection oh attraction dejection
I'm not in on your benediction.