So tell me again about the midnight chases,
Tilt your head, So this, this is what we've come tol
Poetry is your voice: you're my greatest inspiration.
Inconsolably (bleak and) pithy—smooth faced and tongued.
You've got morals to share, I've words to create,
You've got stories to cry, I've rebel rhymes to berate
Tell me about life—let me follow your inflections
The foxtrot or the salsa—tango me round
I can soak in your insights—yours are the greatest reflections
(but shelter me from mirrors—I'm too blind to listen
and too old to care, and too sad to weep, and
too young to know anything about philosophy anyways)
tell me your wisdoms, I'll put them in a poem
Like a dancer and her song wander aimlessly home