Time should be more in tune
Casbahs are only rocked so often;
The dirge should melt into the rhythm
As words leave their melodies behind
Dances of thought in silence, crying
To the beating of a dull heart...
That's what lasts into the mourning
Where all awaits tomorrow's demise
Never in sight or touch or smell
But the rain falls just as well —
It's not a young night that goes by
Sultry streets of monsoons unseen
There is no love in the wind, just
A light breeze of midnight's charm —
That's how morning, lone, awakens to
Day's jagged, kaleidoscopic glares
Don't give that old lust a name or face
It's not as empty as its sin
But averse to being who you've become
In the lap of night, this far from time
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