Old Yellow Moon: F*ck you

Sunday, 1 June 2014

Once you shared your dreaming with me.

We'd fly up and steal the shine off the stars.

Our words would dance in the wind

like dewdrops on spiderwebs in the mist.

But your well is dry, you've sold your soul.

Good for you - you suck, you've given up.

I cannot get past you, though I've tried so hard.

Like pushing a bogged car through sticky mud.

I've walked through a vale of tears,

sheets of icy cold burning my soul

and I cannot leave you and feel whole.

This is my story and I will tell it till it's gone.

I'll tell it until I feel your presence drop away.

I will sing your song - our song - my song

until the moon turns a thousand times

and my lament echoes the howl of the wolves.

We've ached for each other a quarter of a lifetime -

etched furrows in our hearts and across our brows.

We tried to fight it and yet we cannot beat this Thing.

You've let yourself go - live in denial - on your track.

Sometimes I regret moves made long since

when young and unsure and unformed.

Now we clutch shards of time unwilling or unable

to see that time has made of us a laughing-stock.

So f*ck you. I want more than there is or ever was to give,

so let's just get back to whatever it is we both do.

F*ck you, and f*ck you again. F*ck you.

You cannot be who I need you to be.

Old Yellow Moon