The Master's Singer

Tunefully heavy, weightless with mood

Do you let go like I let go?

To a funeral song that covers a summer night

Then falls suddenly silent

Like a shrinking violet

Until the next morning rises

And then you let go like I let go

Where men will clash like pebbles

And water will slit the throats of trees

And the gentle shadows of passer-bys

Will level you to your knees

The master’s singer obeys the chore

And lets the ghost sleep in the room next to yours

Like he’s one less God

I forgot myself in the thin film of summer dust, living outside of the pictures

With lovers I could never trust, being seemingly a fixture

Tapping old trees for a broken history and losing the taste for tortured water

I hear the master’s voice, “dance as I saunter”

The dim of the singer’s body

Naked like a voice maimed

That has taken too many lovers that they carry with their name

That has followed them to town like a lamb to the slaughter

With the heir of the master’s daughter

But no sweet voice sings so joyous

No blood drips from a body so boyish

And when Mary cries will you become so pious

And will you let go like I let go?

Something tells me I don’t think so

He lets the ghost sleep in the room next to yours

Like he’s one less God

I forgot myself in the thin film of summer dust, living outside of the pictures

With lovers I could never trust, being seemingly a fixture

Tapping old trees for a broken history and losing the taste for tortured water

I hear the master’s voice, “dance as I saunter”