John My Beloved - VÉRITÉ

Are we to speak, first day of the week

Stumbling words at the bar

Beauty blue eyes, my order of fries

Long Island kindness and wine

Beloved of John, I get it all wrong

I read you for some kind of poem

Covered in lines, the fossils I find

Have they no life of their own?

So can we pretend, sweetly

Before the mystery ends?

I am a man with a heart that offends

With its lonely and greedy demands

There’s only a shadow of me;

in a matter of speaking, I’m dead

Such a waste, your beautiful face

Stumbling carpet arise

Go follow your gem, your white feathered friend

Icarus, point to the sun

If history speaks of two baby teeth

I’m painting the hills blue and red

They said beware, Lord, hear my prayer

I’ve wasted my throes on your head

So can we be friends, sweetly

Before the mystery ends?

I love you more than the world can contain

In its lonely and ramshackle head

There’s only a shadow of me;

in a matter of speaking, I’m dead

I’m holding my breath

My tongue on your chest

What can be said of my heart?

If history speaks, the kiss on my cheek

Where there remains but a mark

Beloved, my John, so I’ll carry on

Counting my cards down to one

And when I am dead, come visit my bed

My fossil is bright in the sun

So can we contend, peacefully

Before my history ends?

Jesus I need you, be near me, come shield me

From fossils that fall on my head

There’s only a shadow of me;

in a matter of speaking, I’m dead