D.O.A

We can be good at love

Who cares anyhow,

It’s unlikely at this hour

He’ll show. I know that.

As for you, I don’t care

Suit yourself with someone else.

I checked for signs of life

Falsified evidence of a pulse

While we turned the body on its side

Position; recovery.

We’re dead, I’m sorry.

You were just getting used to me

Think you really knew me

(No, you’ll never fulfil me)

What shall we do with the body,

Fleshed testament of our lust and ache?

I must have really liked you

You show up in some memories and

When I consider those times;

It’s fine, but…

I would have preferred someone better.

Would have liked to worship him

And wear him like jewels around my neck,

His name my chain and best

(We’d take her down to dust, that feminist)

Meanwhile, I’d lead him on a horse dressed in armoury,

With a mouth full of words, speaking amber honey, 'my prince: steer the course

Allow me to kiss your feet before you come down
And hit the brutality of earth...'

Where was I?

Oh yeah, you.

It’s so easy to love an idea.

Why didn’t I kill us sooner?

You say, 'you can’t forget'

Yeah, whatever, if it wasn’t me, it’d be some other her

You’ve got a lot of love, that’s all.

You make it special

And then weary at the work.

All I know is, love is natural.

So get away; you’re drowning out my siren song

You know men can’t help it,

I get all the freaks jumping buckets

Move - give me room to shake my nets,

Listen, I know you wanted a tranquil death

As if.

Men who plan that kind of getaway…

Baby, they don’t.

So, you still want my love: should I trade it in?

Gold for tin? Trash the only currency God gave me?

That which doesn’t know how to tarnish or weaken?

Is that the woman you’d happily have me be?

Most men play at love, they die for survival.

No, we've passed over, Dead on Arrival.