Skeptical souls reading each others' minds
over a space constricted through a telephone line.
Beautiful maiden probes inside a sick old man
juggling good sense with his high sexual passion.
Oh, why do you want to know?
And oh, why do I dare?
My dear, can't you just let this go?
I know where you want to go,
I'm not driving there.
The points of a triangle woven
back, over, under and right on through each other,
left spinning in a cyclone in zero-gravity.
She grabbed my skull that night,
sucking with gloved fingers like seductive osmosis,
worming in my ears to pick cranial cavity.
Oh, why do you want to know?
But I know and you know I do.
You ache for validation through my inner eye,
with all due respect, I'm not showing you.
Can remains closed, we see the worms wriggle inside
lying on the table, numinous and fertile, between us
neither of us will open it for the other, yet still we are
both forever plagued with this confusing X-ray vision.
Oh, why do I know?
I won't give you the pleasure of validation.
Of consideration of each other, this circumstance shall be pure.
No walk away or race or silent war I'll inspire between us
over the point between, no: lack of confirmation endured.
You know this is cheating.
Spent too long talking about what we won't say,
pretending we might not be in the same conversation.
Do what thou whilst, this is my soul's plead, pure
of thoughts read and not said, unbridled temptation.
We have different approaches to the aim we reach for,
but that of which we hunger, we know, is one and the same.
You call time out, huddle, whatever is shared is stricken,
but there's no off-the-record record, you know that.
There is no outside of the game.
Fruit here above us ripe and ready to burst
if I don't pick it now, it could maybe fall straight into your lap.
I won't confess to you the clear conundrum
beating to an escalating rhythm; no, thoughts stay wrapped.
Oh, why of why do we have to know?
This would be so much easier.
over a space constricted through a telephone line.
Beautiful maiden probes inside a sick old man
juggling good sense with his high sexual passion.
Oh, why do you want to know?
And oh, why do I dare?
My dear, can't you just let this go?
I know where you want to go,
I'm not driving there.
The points of a triangle woven
back, over, under and right on through each other,
left spinning in a cyclone in zero-gravity.
She grabbed my skull that night,
sucking with gloved fingers like seductive osmosis,
worming in my ears to pick cranial cavity.
Oh, why do you want to know?
But I know and you know I do.
You ache for validation through my inner eye,
with all due respect, I'm not showing you.
Can remains closed, we see the worms wriggle inside
lying on the table, numinous and fertile, between us
neither of us will open it for the other, yet still we are
both forever plagued with this confusing X-ray vision.
Oh, why do I know?
I won't give you the pleasure of validation.
Of consideration of each other, this circumstance shall be pure.
No walk away or race or silent war I'll inspire between us
over the point between, no: lack of confirmation endured.
You know this is cheating.
Spent too long talking about what we won't say,
pretending we might not be in the same conversation.
Do what thou whilst, this is my soul's plead, pure
of thoughts read and not said, unbridled temptation.
We have different approaches to the aim we reach for,
but that of which we hunger, we know, is one and the same.
You call time out, huddle, whatever is shared is stricken,
but there's no off-the-record record, you know that.
There is no outside of the game.
Fruit here above us ripe and ready to burst
if I don't pick it now, it could maybe fall straight into your lap.
I won't confess to you the clear conundrum
beating to an escalating rhythm; no, thoughts stay wrapped.
Oh, why of why do we have to know?
This would be so much easier.
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