I have had falling virtue with the rising sun
I have been that Devil, the ill-begotten one.
My measure, locked to any victory, locked to if I could win,
I have had falling virtue, and risen wrapped in sin.
We rogues have variable honour and oft times poor of hearing,
And our conscience screams forgiveness, as discovery is all we’re fearing.
We relish in our dreams and ideas, lost in unlived histories
Our days and nights and weekends lost, like pages of unsolved mysteries.
We sell medicine for the miserable and hope for the hopeless,
We sell forgiveness to the Catholics and God to the Popeless,
We sell prompts to the speechless and scripts to the silent,
We sell safety to the meek and weapons to the violent.
We’ve loved the idea of loving but not loved which is worse,
We’ve held the innocent in a false and empty curse,
We are too mesmerised by the having of beauty to simply let it be beautiful,
We’ve been too honoured to ourselves to ever be too dutiful.
Oh I have had falling virtue with the rising sun
And I have danced with shame, from the moment the music was begun
I’ve heard good advice, and was too quick to forget.
I’ve raced to the line, where the prize was all regret.
Copyright © 2017 Grant Fenton – All Rights Reserved