Behold

Every day seems to stop and start With shapes and colors and art-given art And I only exist within the warmth of her gaze But for a moment to then disappear in the haze. So I go amidst the multitudes and the commotion I go there and witness the Grand seduction Yes I'm but a remnant who has been ripped open Undone, broken, remolded and woken. Behold my muse of milk and honey And her siamese twin who sins from within Behold the patrons that show and tell And all you artists that live under her spell. O tiger tiger I now feel somewhat ill at ease I'm stricken by some kind of strange disease I ponder the chain that shackles the brain And the mighty spears that brings her to tears. Behold my muse of milk and honey and her twin who lives for silk and money It's gloom and doom and flowers for tomorrow Lilies for her bedroom and roses for her sorrow.