"Seyvgriel, my love" on the page, but I
I've got to pick up myself and then I
Return to sketch "A Scene From my Mind"
My mind, it roams like a Milton poem
Flowing lines breezing in a sea of foam
Foaming brine sweeps into the soul
To clear my mind of you and your pheremones
You've got that sea-life body
I've got the sweet life, so cut it
'S not like I'm so idle inside
It's not like I'm so idle in mind
It's like in 1620
I could run to America
Or become a monk
And I could leave you behind
Behind this mask hides a fawning love
But I could be as Attila and I could be the scourge of Rome
But I'd rather be as Peter just for his nomme
Then I'd nary have to worry about reading like a palindrome
It's like I'm 16 but I
I'm better at cloaking myself in lies
And you're better at raging my mind