| Bind Up My Life Villains Lovers and Fools Page 3 |
| Vincent Vincent and his coat of many colors Well, really it was just a band uniform Down by the art school studios Marching the commons every morn Clinging to bits and pieces Of his shattered stained-glass mind Vincent and his coat of many colors Moving in 4/4 time And then one day it happened Just before the frost He fell into syncopation And the colored bits were lost And on that sad sad morning An otherwise ordinary day The baduns came and went And took him far away I�ve often thought of Vincent Did he pay them all their dues Poor fanciful sweet Vincent And his coat of many hues |
| Bruce An unknown sound presents itself- Head erect, ears alert and eyes fixed One foot raised and bent at the joint - Inspiring pinnacle of animal husbandry� Noble bearing, noble beast. Then, the sound having past, the danger gone�.. He rolls on his back, Hind quarters splayed in careless abandon�. Lovingly, he cradles his favorite stick between two elegant paws and gnaws with great affection. My stick�.. I catch his eye, and he gives me his goofy dog grin Ain�t life grand? I know he�s just a thespian, And he does too�. God bless his little soul. |
| My Sorrows Hang Heavy My sorrow hangs heavy Like fog in the hollows of my heart Dementia That�s what you have they say Your mind is slowly walking away I�ve read the definitions and the causes The symptoms, the treatments The whys and the becauses And yet it is all outside of us You and me Oh how do I make you see? How do I make you consider tomorrow And tomorrow and tomorrow of yet to be? When you mind is slowly walking away And you can�t even remember yesterday. I�m too close to the proximity of it I cannot distance myself with words And there is nothing left except to say My sorrow hangs heavy Like fog in the hollows of my heart |
| Gargoyle There is a little gargoyle Looking down upon me Sitting on his mantle shelf Legs crossed neatly at the feet His hands demurely folded In his little naked lap His mouth with tongue extended Even when he naps The face, a fierce and pointed one The eyes, reptilian design And yet a sophistication And a manner quite refined. We comment on the weather And muse the latest news We commiserate with angels We sing the devil�s blues My winged little buddy My editor, my friend Listens to my broken verse Until it finally ends. Yes my winged little buddy Sits patient on his mantle seat As I type type type away At his tiny little feet. |
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