Gaga

The rhymes of my writing clash with my thoughts They don't seem to know if I've had enough Or if still need to be taught I stare at half-shut windows While I try to find that glow that takes me back to Rome Gaga sounds in my head, and she tells me "Mate, just bring it down. You might not get past Kent" The Holy Grail was found, and it was painful I justified all means And I was all but tearful There's just a flight of stairs to get me to the roof Still I can't find the door to the room The fervor of the crowd turned into tremor But indeed there was no sign of sin And I was nothing but tearful