I will come.

Capo 3

Fig. 1: Am---|G-|Am---|Am---

Dance for me

And I'll make you feel holy

Dance for me

And I'll make it alright

Sway in my breeze

I won't desert you

Sway through the trees

Out of the light

Fig. 2: F---|G---|Am---|Am---

Down in the valley

Rising up out of the mud

Down in your heart

In every little thud

Fig 1.

The fires will come

And devour the living

The fires will burn

To make it all start anew

Lend me your self

And I'll make you feel holy

No fire, no light

Will ever tarnish you

Fig. 2

Deep in the mountain

In the crumbling dirt

Deep in your soul

Part of every little hurt

The heart's of men

Make a good hiding place

The wickedest of grins

Right beneath your face

Fig. 3: Dm---|G---|Am---|Am--- x3
Dm---|G---|F---|E--G
A simple traveler
Out on his way to the East
You chance upon him
And you travel for seven miles at least
No friend nor foe
Will you find in this man
He'll step on your toes
With a cloven hoof
Just because he can

Fig. 1
Dance for me
And I'll make you feel holy
Dance for me
In the cool of the night
Dance for me
And I'll make you feel holy
Dance for me
In the vanishing light

Rightio.

Looks like your average murder

Half a pint of blood

Thrown five feet and further

Seems to me your average crazy

Edged weapon, left-handed

Left a little hazy, startled

Look, he didn't cover his tracks

A footprint here and there and back again

It all seems just the same

Ending up on t.v.

A regular butchering

A routine atrocity again

It all just seems the same

I can't write introspectively anymore.

I think too fast. In the middle of a very long-winded piece where I try to nut out some serious dilemma the old noggin skips ahead a few minutes and finds the conclusion I was already working too. Underlying reasons are always so simple. Nothing is complex.

So what's the game?
Everyone has a racket

A deal, a bit, a thunder to be stole

We've all got our pride, boy

So what's your game on this big blue bowl?

From whence does your pride spring?

Everyone has a beat

And you know mine can't be beat

Sit down

Take a seat

You sure aren't 7 feet

But you could be great you know

You just need to outrun fate

And fate's a little slow

What's the game?

What's your game?

I'm proud of this. Just saying.

Can Penny Wong be in the right?
Should Devine right be wrong?

A right Wong's unrightly wronged

For they're the wrong rights Devine divines

But Wong's rights! What of them?

Devine, you wrong this rightly Wong

Divinely inspired, undivine Devine

I write to right the wrongs on Wong

That was so much fun.

Oh my. I'm giggling. Oh my, yes.

Context? Here you go.

The boon.

Unto thee I give this boon
A curse perhaps? We will know soon

What your person wants, what deserveth thee

Perhaps a curse? Soon we will see

Not to forebode a sticky end

The merest chance, it must be kenned

For the means to this blight we might upend

So what would warrant a sticky end?

Have you villains? Have you foes?
Tell us now that we may know

The boon sees what you will not say

Should you from good purposefully stray

The boon will rear an ugly head

Morph to curse, then you'll be dead

"How 'bout I break your face?"
A vulgar one with eyes like wire

And hair like plastic string

Pastels, branded, tracksuit madness

And you would dare to threaten me?

When even the concrete can't hold

The weight of your own stinking breath

And it breathes like the cold

Pushing forth of no will and stops

Resting on laurels that aren't even there

"Look me in the fuckin' eyes, cunt"

I'd really like to but I'd get lost

Just like you have in your own shallows

A pseudo-mind more like, which serves

To push you into greater stupour

Succour, my lord? You seem in need

I'm awfully sorry you mouth's not used

To using words

Create.

Hour's late

Why not create?

Visible fate

Why not create?

Fuck off, mate

Why not create?
Seething hate

Why not create?

Don't dare wait

Why not create?

Hour's still late

Better not create.

Muddied mane.

Bleed your own blood!

Keep well away from my veins

Down into the mud

Down into the mud

I've no care for your muddied mane

Stay away from my blood

You've not a heart to thud?

Bleed your own blood

Draw your own conclusions!
Mine aren't done yet

Steeped in seclusion

Steeped in seclusion

And what is this net?

A foregone conclusion

Some miserable infusion

Draw your own conclusions

Write your own verse!

It's sure to be nice

The writer's curse

The writer's curse

A most wonderful vice

Pretty, ordered verse

Write to immerse

Write your own verse

See your own sights!

It doesn't work vicariously

Shut out the light

Shut out the light

Ever so gregariously

Take in the sights

As a good man might

See your own sights