Sunday, April 9, 2017


Safe From Irony

I'm sick of love, I need it so
It tries to stay, I make it go
It flings itself down at my feet
And gags me on it's taste so sweet.

I'm tired of dying, I want to live
I can't take anymore, I want to give
I cannot sleep nor close my lids
Don't wake me now, you never did.

If I could walk, I'd walk so far
Or drive myself there in your car
If I could fly, I'd fly to God
But I'm a dead man, made of sod.

Ironic things, ironic thoughts 
They don't come free, they must be bought
And bought with diamonds encased in gold
Exchanged and bartered by the soul.

The nights are days, the days are nights
And in our terrors we delight
The days are dark and fads that fade
And passed in secret masquerade.

You say you love me but you don't
You want to love me but I won't
I run in circles cloaked in woe
I'm sick of love, I need it so.

©by Voo
Jan 14, 2007 
10:48 p.m.