I once filled another with my own soul.
Sure as flame, you can’t do the same
On a mule- it’s a rule
And I’m sorry to say I learned the hard way
‘Black wants black, white wants white,
Who the hell gave you the right?’
You weren’t always the mule
I made you to be.
I once fed obsession with honest love.
Pay no attention to the god above
Or those intuitions- another sight
That wake you in the dead of night
Worry not- logic’s turn.
I’ll push you in the corner, get you to fight
Brush away the voices in the dead of night.
I won’t let a magpie fall to its death.
Truth be told, I crafted a mould
So fall into me. Profess your flaw
I am the program. I am the law, and I
Know that I know it’s good for you.
Twenty odd years to find an address
I am your vehicle for success.
I wonder about my own two hands.
The sculptor of sculptures already made,
It’s a shame they don’t let you get away with it.
I cared for you, but you couldn’t see
That one should carve your destiny.
Is there one answer, cold and trite?
Follow the voices in the dead of night?