Spartacist

This peaceful world, Just a lie, What hidden Troubles do Bely Our earthly paradise. My Conscience addled Like witches stew, Dirty gruel: a hidden clue. Still loving you. God’s just a belief, To some that’s a relief, It hurts to find the truth, What struth! End of the world, Judgement day, Saviour comes - To take us away.

Don Quixote’s Lines. And as I pull you down towards heaven, You cling to me as though I were your own; But I am no member of your brethren, It seems as though my heart was on loan. Those other men I choose not compete; So many that my pillars just give way- And each time that I fight we seem to meet; Every time the loser’s price I must pay. Again I stand here, a man still broken; The sound of jeers just seem to hit so hard, And still I wait for that promised token. My honour I treasure with high regard, Don Quixote’s still on his search to find, That perfect girl to help settle his mind.

Your beauty evades me, even today; A sullen face; i look on in despair. For all those things i've done; I want to say the pain in my heart is caused by a tear. Our lives, they intertwine, then fall away. Our portraits: a one time happy picture. Alas that sweet affair was just a day, And once again my heart, it needs a cure. Converse, we do, and now i understand, That sweet medicine cannot heal the pain. So write my words, with my sweet hand in                                   the hope that, in your heart i shall remain.    A sweetness in this pain tells me it's true:    My heart would yearn to fall in love with you

The Lost Friend (My Only True Man) Ten months in limbo watching over you, And now that sweet affair comes to an end. Those many sad shades all revert to blue, You feel your heart broken; unable to mend. For me, the torture comes as you suffer, For each day that you loved, I understood, That my stone cold heart was just a buffer, To stop me doing what other men would. I’ll mend your soul, your heart and desire, Reminisce over times I felt like dirt; In what I thought were circumstances dire; So now I see the true meaning of hurt. You will fix time as it still calls to you, That period with which the winds once blew.