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A Flower In A Glove

Because you were always unnoticed
You were always the flame that dies,
Bastard with a flat-top singing, "The Cloud of Unknowing",
Bastard with a flat-top singing, "There's a flame, a flame, a flame,
A flame that never dies."
Because you were always unfocused,
Jinxing the photograph with the pain in your eyes.
Bastard with a flat-top singing, "I shall wait for your love,
I shall wait for your love all days."
Bastard with a casket singing, "I shan't wait for her love,
I shan't wait for her love."

But you were always:
A saint, a flower in a glove, a night made for the raising of your glass,
The night's going to be a foolin' and a foolin', but still:
Judith ain't sure,
Toil away, play in the sand, gross out your heart,
The night's going to be made for the la-la-la, but still:
Judith ain't sure.
You were always unloading,
Bastard with a passport to the old destinations,
Bastard with a map of the palm of your hand.
You were always: "Shut him out."
You were always:
Sun, Dash of White Light,
A night that has passed,
Has passed into the records of all
That the little record keepers fear,
Dear Mary-Anne, Bastard of Light,
I swept your flax bang, I swept into the currents of the river where
Judith ain't sure.
Oh Man, it was you: did you ever think of a bad idea?
Because the river is bad, the river is cold.
How was the King, was he sad, was he cold, was he low?
Put your hand on my face, row away from the grief-stricken man,
put your trust in my fate, I shall track that abrasive wasteland:
We are richer in love, but you know: You just can't have it.

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