NYMPHO

Release the rapt and the cynic falls
You deemed yourself ineffable
But the maudlin nymphs
Surrounded you like a tunnel
And you can’t find the egress
So down your grog and employ your maul
Crush the skulls of the prodigal
As they lay in wait
For the rest to come down the funnel
And you can’t digest the excess
Go with god, go with god my son
‘Tis a perilous chore
Killing the tedium boar
Dodging tooth and tusk as you must to endure
Let ennui run its course
I am beating a dead horse
The game is afoot and the tacit told
The monies made when the soul is sold
And the glutted gloat
And the moguls prove they have muscle
But you can’t find the egress
Here in a room with no walls
My blow’s been smote and the dead are borne
The woebegone looking so forlorn
As they lay about
Waiting to wake from the coma
You still can’t digest the excess
Go with God, go with god my son
As I drink from the gourd
The lute plays an ominous chord
Deep in the color of dusk is it thus too obscure
Spare no expense or remorse
While you beat on a dead horse
Alas I am writhing here in delay
I wait for a semaphore
Wait for my time with the leeches
I insubordinate you are ordained
Reveal your criteria
I puzzle over each of your pieces
Epiphanies drip from me in rivers
These locks will cede to the will of the skeleton key
Watch it cleave through the steel
Remnants peak and then scatter
Bringing me out of the weeds of an age old routine
I am agog and obscene
Devils and gods in this together
Push in, turn, then recede
As if they were the skeleton keys
That open doors that aren’t real
Gods and devils don’t matter
They’re like a million degrees
Too stifling
Count me out please

Lyrics by Erik Heimann © 2006