Now my foolish boat is leaning
Broken lovelorn on your rocks
For you sing, touch me not, come back tomorrow
O my heart, O my heart shies from the sorrow
You gashed the heart of my heart
Like a Portuguese witch
I'd planned for you this land
But you devoured my hand
Hear me sing, swim to me, let me enfold you
And loveliest vision far
Of all Olympus' faded hierarchy
Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none
Nor altar heaped with flowers
Nor virgin-choir to make delicious moan
Upon the midnight hours
No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet
From chain-swung censer teeming
No shrine, no globe, no oracle, no heat
Of pale-mouthed prophet dreaming
Here I am, here I am, waiting for you
Graze on my lips
And if those hills be dry
Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie
She says you ain't got nothing until you hit rock bottom
Will you come in baby?
But will you get burned?
Because I am just what I am
Or so I've learned
I am - maybe a loser
Maybe a sinner
Either way - a perpetual beginner
Blue, silver-white, and budded Tyrian
They lay calm-breathing on the bedded grass
Their arms embraced, and their pinions too
Their lips touched not, but had not bade adieu
As if disjoined by soft-handed slumber
And ready still past kisses to outnumber
At tender eye-dawn of aurorean love
The winged boy I knew
But who wast thou
His Psyche true!
Well the boys keep swinging
The girls keep bringing
Oh yeah!
