I’ll write a song called Nevermore,
And travel to a distant shore.
I’ll carve it into stone by runes,
Under a bone-white winter’s moon.
And when my body meets the coal,
You may yet find my treasured soul.
I’ll write a song called Nevermore,
And travel to a distant shore.
I’ll carve it into stone by runes,
Under a bone-white winter’s moon.
And when my body meets the coal,
You may yet find my treasured soul.
I’ll write a song called Dolly Moon,
And mix it in the month of June.
The signature shall swirl and hop.
‘Round notes as swell as lemon drops.
Served with a dollop of cooled cream,
Won’t life taste as sweet as a dream?
I’ll write a song called The East End
For he who was more than a friend
Composed in a phantom key,
A microbarom frequency,
And when you cross the overpass,
Won’t you hear it say, “Alas.”
I’ll write a song called Paris Blue
And dedicate the words to you
I’ll fold our little happy psalm
Until it fits inside your palm
Like a kiss, a moment fleeting,
Locked inside for your safekeeping
I’ll write a song called Begin Again
Non in eadem
Each verse, in truth, will be a bridge
Leading past the horizon’s ridge
And by Apollo’s homily,
Won’t life hum with transcendency
I’ll write a song called Autumn Light
And my, won’t you think it a sight?
‘Tween bars of gold, each note will glow,
Waving towards the ground below
And by Nature’s sweet elegy,
We three will grieve in harmony
I’ll write a song called Fare Thee Well
Upon it, Time shall cast her spell.
Bound by stone and blessed by sage,
The melody shall never age.
And by the Moon’s astral decree,
Our song shall haunt eternity.
I’ll write a song called Virtuti
From all the words you’ve given me
I’ll pour them into rocks, like veins
And place them back from whence we came
And by the moon’s fair gravity
Your words will ring true from the sea
I’ll write a song called Flutterby
With words that dip low, then swing high
Along a staff of golden rays,
Our clumsy cares will cast away
And when our timid souls take flight,
We’ll coast in the candescent light
I’ll write a song called Petrichor
With words you’ll swear you’ve heard before
I’ll dabble dew-drop harmonies
Into an earthy-bass reprise
And by its sweet saturation,
The sound will rise in ovation