whimsical delights

on a spur, on a airy fairy cool aid you sew your lips and speak your mind, every fantasy touches the gold dust, no longer quite gold with the spectators eagers to drink in this delight overwhelming, banal retreats as euphoria reaches to a level unheard of, an achievement don't you think? passions, being human is not living in one ivory tower or program codes, executing without a shifting of legs, wanting fresh air, left out. like the kid that never fitted in, now grown up he is still walking on memory's lane, unable to do what is whimsical. trapped, stamped in the oblivion of having to do as everyone else, even when it makes no sense. break free, chains, iron, on soul caged in this human flesh, and i have to be just like you because you can, you will, you must, sewn lips unbounded, a heart able to do whatever it must. soaring free, and tell me - follow the damn yellow road, it leads to salvation and as for you, you have lived, tasted, fulfilled every whim that money can buy, you say to follow truth, to follow what is right, your always held the keys didn't you? what is right becomes you, the godhead, lowering himself, prostate, with chastity unblemished you who have tasted every delight! delightful devil, masquerading with a peacock strut pecking on dirt, bent low when the talk is holy fire, the walk is a hellish dream reborn. a dream that most try to attain and cannot, you smirk when men get envious: see, see, i am envious not, how you play with words, wish i could be just like you, to play with gold and still be sacred: such whims die when it becomes quite obvious that earth only has one god.