And then when u sit down under a high ceiling, a piano on your left arm, The tones of a half lit incandescent candle perched on a colonial holder, your eyes fixed on the shining button of your black trench coat. Memory of a lost love, the last sip remaining in a stem glass of suburban french wine, The rhythmic breeze flirting with the musical chime. Making a charmed melody of some moist nostalgic times. Some fresh air passes against you, getting mixed with your smoky breath, This fresh air will never be fresh again for now its poisoned with your sadness and deflowered with your musk. The moon quietly looks at you through the window that is busy mating you with the world of stars.
Slowly your eyes begin to close as a mirage of her sultry lady curves appears. Like an enchanted princess in the dry desert of your eyes. Slowly watering the desert it takes a toll on your feeble heart.
Through the rusty bars of the dungeon, She stretches her hand for you. . . Craving for her saviour. Eyeing for her warrior. Her long flowing dress doesn't belong to that muddy rough cage. Those ugly walls aren't suited to her smooth skin. She's an angel who belongs to the airy-wooly lap of clouds. Of beautiful sunrises between two snowy mountains. She isn't accustomed to the ordeal she's been put through and its harsher when you're at the other end. The only thing that can save her is your music, your fingers hold the keys to her chains. Through that small barred window she's longing for you to play on and on. Oh how drenched she wants to be in your delirium, her eyes wetting those tender rosy cheeks all in your memory, her heart beating for you beyond those bars.
But you have to be cruel to tonight , You have to be strong enough to watch her suffer. You have to ignore her, even if it means stabbing your feelings with an unchained melody.
You do things You'd never imagine yourself doing. You make and break hearts. You love -lose yet love again. Its your ultimate lust to own. But the funny thing is that you cannot own the things you love. You can accompany them, admire them, cherish them and bask in their bosom, but you can't choose them or claim them.
You cannot instruct your heart to stop beating and thats why the things you love have the power to render you powerless.
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