No more tears Tonto…

And the world is a desolate and lonely place

When a man walks about on his own
Tis true he has a host of friends from whom to choose
And yet who among them may chose he
It is one thing to be in need with so many at your beck and call
And another thing entirely whether surrounded or alone
When there is no heart to care for you but your own
Whenever lightning strikes the invention of man
Gears start to turn
Regardless of whom is present to hear their squeak and grind and watch the work of clocks.
Had I a timepiece in my pocket
I would unstring it and lock it
And toss it away into the sea
For some mer man to puzzle over aimlessly
I would not have a watch to watch my time for me
Tis but my time and I do so spend it presently
If not pleasantly
I will appeal to your good nature
For such great terms do mock me
I will no more with clocks they do so knock me
Off my balance
For I am not so, so balanced
I am tilting t’wards a mighty foe
From the tippity top of a pencil- stop
What you’re doing and give me a lift
In exchange for a nifty amount this thrifty gift
Will make you sixpence none the richer
Kiss that girl she’s blushing singing “kiss me”
How romantic we’re floating in a blue lagoon
Blue moon you left me standing alone
Without a dream in my heart,
Without a hope of my own
Blue meanies mooned me
And carefully crooned me
I doubtful think had become slave to a master
And with it my name bullet ridden, in pain, in vain
I cried out “victim!” and none heard no more.
I belied, yes, I lied of a moody maiden headed in the right direction opposite mine own, we stood by the cross, there roads lay before and she rattled her collections hanging from the rear view mirror.  “No dice.” I commented blithely, she liquidated lithely each line into stares.  “I’ve not come for riches” she wrote in dust on the dashboard, confessing more than words I caught her in an into the sunset ride look.  We sat there in silence, and with a whisper we turned our transmissions and started engines down our own dirty roads.  “Alright.” was all that was spoken, it was sad and it was heavy, it was accepting, black and prejudiced.  It was all I had left in my hands at the end of the day.  The word itself, and nothing more nor nothing  less to comfort me.
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