Easy to begin but hard to stop, love
is like lies.
Both engulf the soul
of man
in sleep
and in wake, destroying our innocence
All things wicked grow out of innocence
sweet and beautiful love
by magic is put to sleep,
and where the purity lies
love is made to lust, by man:
corrupt through to the soul
It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul
you took away my innocence
corrupting my heart to where no man
was worth my love
except you; despite your lies
I stare at you for hours while you sleep.
While I fell in love with the way you sleep
a hatred grew in your soul;
I began to represent the pain, and lies
that stole your youthful innocence
my love
fueled your hatred, my man
became a distant memory; but the man
you used to be was an ever-present actor on the stage that is my sleep.
Write me a bedroom where cures make love
to our cancers; where the goodness of my soul
could return to you what was stolen years ago: your innocence.
You saw me as a collection of lies,
and maybe the answer lies,
while I sit here watching you burn away. Man
if only I could hook up my heart to your ears and let you hear my love, flooded with innocence
But I know the real answer, which comes to me while I watch you sleep
I can't fix your soul
so maybe it's easier to let us slip away than it is to say goodbye
So I pack up my innocence, and the way I loved your sleep
I took the lies and shoved them in the fire; burning the man
who used to occupy your soul, the one I used to love.
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