Broken fate like a twig halved in split
Oh the debris of storms that hit
Scrambled fate, no start or end
Like the Nile that passes the bend
And you, my lovely wife, can do no harm
Donning the shovel in your weary arm
The fallow was good for a renaissance
Leonardo was no polymath to the odds of chance
Broken bed springs and split ends
The torment of the flesh, never ends
We are always young for the blooms of the night
Like two spuds darkened by blight
Strange how the full moon has no scar
Like your face diffracted from afar
Now spread your wings like an albatross
While you pay your penance like dental floss
We danced the night to the outskirts of moan
Interfaced to a face-off, levied by atone
The pinions you swept beyond the clouds so high
Until crabs fell from your flamingo sky
While we look down the bathroom sink
Of yesteryear draining in perfect sync
We are no longer a conjecture of misplaced chance
How the fool’s seed bore the fruit of romance
