We can't all be good knights...
I have a cheap lamp, the kind that forks before the bulb in hopes the viewer can pretend he/she is seeing perhaps three old candle wicks, like in those romance novels she used to read when she was still full of hopes and dashing gentlemen, the perfect man. And now as i retire and she turns a cheap black plastic nob, she cuts the light and kisses me. It feels like goodbye. It should be goodbye. Goodbye to that long stone stairway he chased her up, goodbye that stallion that he can't keep still in her presence but he always arrives upon and in decent time. Goodbye to castles and lightning, the danger of being unsure enveloped within arms like Gastons and the soft touch of the Beast, the security and danger, the shit that really gets her off. And now, an in-law in San Francisco with a shitty lamp, she kisses my forehead, I dress it all up, because I love her and in a week or so, oh I'm winning the lottery, I bought a ticket baby. I want this fantasy as bad as you do. And I wonder what that horse is doing or if they have the lighting right in all those corridors I am to chase you down as your nighty runs like a ghost alone trailing like a bride and kissing the stone set floor. How cold you find your feet before they find such satin sheets and if maybe you realize before the money and before the show that I want this as bad as you do, that not all knights can afford the armor.
I have a cheap lamp, the kind that forks before the bulb in hopes the viewer can pretend he/she is seeing perhaps three old candle wicks, like in those romance novels she used to read when she was still full of hopes and dashing gentlemen, the perfect man. And now as i retire and she turns a cheap black plastic nob, she cuts the light and kisses me. It feels like goodbye. It should be goodbye. Goodbye to that long stone stairway he chased her up, goodbye that stallion that he can't keep still in her presence but he always arrives upon and in decent time. Goodbye to castles and lightning, the danger of being unsure enveloped within arms like Gastons and the soft touch of the Beast, the security and danger, the shit that really gets her off. And now, an in-law in San Francisco with a shitty lamp, she kisses my forehead, I dress it all up, because I love her and in a week or so, oh I'm winning the lottery, I bought a ticket baby. I want this fantasy as bad as you do. And I wonder what that horse is doing or if they have the lighting right in all those corridors I am to chase you down as your nighty runs like a ghost alone trailing like a bride and kissing the stone set floor. How cold you find your feet before they find such satin sheets and if maybe you realize before the money and before the show that I want this as bad as you do, that not all knights can afford the armor.