Lines have been written down the back of my neck
Ancient scrolls, unintelligible
In a language spoken when men and women
Lived together in deep respect and love
My throat has begun to burn
The ink has started to bleed
Where once was smooth innocence
Crawling with anticipation of the turning times
Return to a fantasia built upon sorcery
Filled with myth so blood-soaked and deep
Memories flood the virgin landscape
And the Oracle speaks once again
I name off the past Prime Ministers of Canada
As I vigorously make love to you in the night
This helps me accept the fact that
I’ll be slipping with my consciousness soon
Lapsing into a nether region where
Hawks and eagles walk among men
Tipping their hats in respect for animals while
Dining on fine wine and inhaling Cuban cigars
It’s not that I don’t enjoy our time together
Or that my nether regions don’t explode with furious passion
In the presence of your captivating demeanor
Sensuous curves and inviting aroma
I quite like it actually, appealing to all my senses
I just like to dream of Fantasia
Land so vividly different to familiar Earth
A dreamscape of my own devices
Rhythmically naming the past Prime Ministers
And rattling the headboard of your mothers bed chamber