SF (June 17 1942 / Troy New York)


Things that send souls alight hold you down like a stone
Jaded wings growing heavy before taking flight
Like a hermit at heart, who can not be alone
You are driven to those that won’t stay by your side

Bosom chums smiling kindly, adjusting your noose
Gently knocking the chair from under your feet
And those passionate sages that show you the truth
While their hand on your wallet seems almost discrete

Every time you’re betrayed it gets harder to trust
To get close, to allow the glimmer of hope
Motivations boil down to money or lust
Even charity comes with its own quid pro quo

But there’s always a soulmate out there for me
To that one, I am raising this whittled wine glass
To that cynical mug staring back from the mirror
I’ll drink, ‘cuz tonight you’re as good as it gets.

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