Venus still shines bright as the dawn rises,
just one more Morningstar I don’t need now.
She is still in my head from closing time,
long pale red hair, crowning her sweet head.
Washing a beer glass with a rag, singing low,
a distracted beauty, as I left to face the night again.
Venus, shining bright, I have seemed to guide
the days of my life by her whims, reckless.
Morningstar told me it would bring freedom,
but it all just ended up ashes, maybe pretty words.
I think of that pale red hair, and her soft song,
and wonder if love can come from sentiment and lust.
Backyard of a friends modest little place, a fairie tree,
sitting in his little girl’s tree house, cursing Venus, but I followed.
Cursing Morningstar, but I followed him too, greedy for fix,
greedy for a touch, greedy for the fire that warms only once.
Try not to sleep again, make the day something, something good.
Dream of that pale red hair, but maybe sentiment and lust only fail.