"If It's Me You Believe"
Written by Jonathan Henderson
Sunday November 30, 2014 @ 7:11 AM
The skipping of my stone rations a gently seismic ripple in the pond... and
O' I believe it is time to sail my boat as the moon's baton directs His Opus
Magnus as the crickets bow their legs - Nature's violin ensemble of Lord
Knows all, and while pickin' daisies, blowin' into the wind those cottony
Ol' dandelions whose helicopters, like a white snow sprouting only from
The ground, are to fly! fly! fly! Fly me away, and home to my eternal spa
Where the waters never age and there need never be good reasoning to
Read into the crystal ball, to stand tall as that gypsy queen on a new day's
Halloween foretells a life yet to be, but if you shall never believe me, well
That's just fine - I shall fly away! Way A-way! Light as a feather and even
Less busy like a bee, the pot dullened as that honey sweet just dried away.
Fantastic though my story's told, it's only applicable if it's me you'll believe
And not the fiction of an eternal sunrise preparing to enter the vestibule of
My blank mind - and how my life has been quite unkind! Yet 'tis God who
Always informs me to sail my clipper 'cross the Atlantic hurricane, the gale
Screaming as a queen in the heat of a bristly tryst - and I'm alive amid this
Bliss! Sunkissed! A tan indicative St. Thomas of the Bahama Island's sound
Singing to me a tune too intoxicating in amorous delight to simply e any old
Siren; her erotic shrill a cappella pitch, so sweet, ma belle St. Marie - and O'!
How I do hope you'll believe me now, for life is such a sacrificial cow, and if
We could be seen right now as tonight descends on our fateful forevers, and
Never a day to pass us along by and by, and indeed I sigh for in translation
I never was lost, but died a spiritual dive into my hellish immolation - and how
My spirit shall never be free of thee so long as life continues to "be", to exist.
Magnus as the crickets bow their legs - Nature's violin ensemble of Lord
Knows all, and while pickin' daisies, blowin' into the wind those cottony
Ol' dandelions whose helicopters, like a white snow sprouting only from
The ground, are to fly! fly! fly! Fly me away, and home to my eternal spa
Where the waters never age and there need never be good reasoning to
Read into the crystal ball, to stand tall as that gypsy queen on a new day's
Halloween foretells a life yet to be, but if you shall never believe me, well
That's just fine - I shall fly away! Way A-way! Light as a feather and even
Less busy like a bee, the pot dullened as that honey sweet just dried away.
Fantastic though my story's told, it's only applicable if it's me you'll believe
And not the fiction of an eternal sunrise preparing to enter the vestibule of
My blank mind - and how my life has been quite unkind! Yet 'tis God who
Always informs me to sail my clipper 'cross the Atlantic hurricane, the gale
Screaming as a queen in the heat of a bristly tryst - and I'm alive amid this
Bliss! Sunkissed! A tan indicative St. Thomas of the Bahama Island's sound
Singing to me a tune too intoxicating in amorous delight to simply e any old
Siren; her erotic shrill a cappella pitch, so sweet, ma belle St. Marie - and O'!
How I do hope you'll believe me now, for life is such a sacrificial cow, and if
We could be seen right now as tonight descends on our fateful forevers, and
Never a day to pass us along by and by, and indeed I sigh for in translation
I never was lost, but died a spiritual dive into my hellish immolation - and how
My spirit shall never be free of thee so long as life continues to "be", to exist.
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