Lorenzo's Parting Thoughts, by Charles Carreon
Life, the real dance of passion
is happening today.
No recess time declared,
The fashion is to play and play and play.
With the hated in the second show,
And risk to self at the Intermezzo,
Eating dainties in the opal glow.
It's a right wicked assembly,
is it not? With the heirs and pretenders
Pushing for a spot,
With the ladies in waiting
and the magistrates toying with their
hair bobs and their delicates.
Listen, glisten, it's the price of admission,
No cunning or guile is excessive.
Feathers, flowers, idle hours, my darling
You look so expressive.
Drag out the regalia for a sweet saturnalia,
and call in the freaks from the woods.
Well one night in Sevilla,
Ya' know it won't kill ya'
Like a weekend in Granada could.
That's good.
Now set down your knives,
the meal's not served yet,
And the more you wait,
the more hungry you get,
And pleasure deferred
Is pleasure enhanced to the
pitch of higher set, let's get
Involved now ladies and gentlemen --
those waistcoats are confining
And corsets still more yet,
But the masks should stay in place
Lest we get unconfused
And pleasure be aborted
Or anyone refuse.
We'll rock now.
Do you get the meaning?
Do you get the treat?
Do you hear the fire squealing on your street?
Do you hear the breaking
of the garden gate?
Do you hear their twisted voices
singing songs of faith and hate?
Those scum know how to rock.
At our pleasant little party
The debutantes in line
Hold out their crystal goblets for a sip of wine,
Give up their delicate garments
For the promised price
Give up their tender bodies
On a bed of ice.
They're going to learn how to rock.
Now the iron-worker's asking
A question of the priest
Who's cleaning out his dinner
From between his twisted teeth:
"Did you ever hear the stories
What they do in there?
Do it to our children
Well you know it's hardly fair.
Do it with impunity
Do it day and night.
How can God abide it?
You know that it's not right."
And the priest says smiling cruelly
"You're a very saintly man,"
And walking both together
He takes him by the hand, says
"Let's get the Devil
by the old short hairs
Hang him up to squirm
With his hooves in the air,
Convict that hairy bastard
In the holy cross-hair sights,
Eliminate the problem
In one sweet, bloody night."
That bastard surely can rock.
I found my flower in the pale moonlight
Her shade of lipstick
was absolutely right,
Her powdered cheek was exquisitely fair,
And while I stood there
Wondering how to dare,
She turned to me and blew a kiss
through the air.
Her curled hair rose like a coronet,
Still more adorned her shoulders in ringlets,
Soft breasts arched up with stays
More lovely yet. I pledged my kingdom
as our eyes first met.
That girl could rock.
She was a prize worth killing for,
And at her word I would
do much more,
Cheat, lie and steal, and poison too,
When it's a matter of the blood, you do.
Fifteen years later
On my deathbed too soon,
The shadows cruelly creep around the room,
Those I have schemed to bring to benefit
Have twice betrayed me and
I feel regret.
Those pale bodies on those beds of ice,
Those bloody trinkets
and my antiseptic knife,
The scent of evil that has tracked me there,
No message waiting after all these years.
Oh gentle victims
Who had been my loves,
Can't speak a word of mercy in my name,
I broke you all upon the wheel of passion
And all your kindness
Like your blood's been drained.
If only I could turn the knife
upon myself. Cut out this heart
of cruelty. Expose it to the sun
and let the life run down my arm.
Save all of them from me
and me from harm.
If I could warn them
I would be right back --
Dark-browed minions shake their heads,
My tongue goes slack.
Doors open wide for me
that no one else can see.
My turn to rock.