olympus

if this is the first day of my life,
let the doctor off the hook,
for he knew not what he did,
never mind the man and wife.
if tonight's the last night,
let us drink until your face,
red with blood and white with grace,
is upon my righteous lips;
all the lies that i've told
wiped out by all the ones you've sung.

let's go for a drive;
i'm sure it will end in tears.
these things always do until they don't.
the gods, they always flee;
unfold the drive;
escape alive;
put me out of my misery.
and melodies of far away
appear to you in better shape
when all there really is
is here and there with different apes.

your soul, like some gem with no color,
radiates a tearful nature, full of beauty,
bittersweet green, o lush Gaia before us;
tremble as her hands touch skin,
retreat into the music still...

once, the waves moved us so far
we knew not who we were;
if only for a lion's heart,
my lips might have to burn
and yearn forever in the dark,
across the mountain, plain and stark,
with love and grace lost from the start,
the need and thirst remain.

the fault is mine for leaving, believing
the fault is yours for living, as if
the ones who love you the most are
far too precious to love in return;
better, then, to love those sculptures,
beautiful and cold,
infused with souls,
and just as soon vacated,
leaving you alone and wasted.

rest easy, Athena, because instead
of the wrathful vengeance, all i have
is more of the same:
more longing looks and sighed goodbyes,
more merciful than your whole body,
clothed in Elysium's finest,
flowing in the scorching winds of the sound,
so sweet and all too perfect to admire,
until the temples crumble and decay,
until our woven bodies are cast into Hades,
until this feeling...