Take my money, my mansion, my castle
steal the company out from under me
and runaway with whatever you want
just leave me the courtyard and I'll be okay.
-
I need someplace to think, you know.
-
This very courtyard, with wide-open space
where my canvas would be set up
as my brush would attempt to capture
serene, heavenly beauty in front of me
-
She was my model, my muse
the only reason my sun shone
or my flowers bloomed or my world
had any colour in it at all
-
But then seventeen is all too young to die.
-
So I sit here and brood in the courtyard
and I'm not the only one but then
misery loves company anyway so
a kindred soul sighs and stares into nowhere.
-
He's only got his illusions left, you know.
-
This very courtyard, not far from the stage
where his show would be set up
as his wand would wave and cover
the real work of his divine assistant
-
She was his magic, his spark
the only reason he would escape
every night without fail instead
of just staying in the box
-
But then accidents always happen, it seems.
-
I take in the fresh courtyard air
that brightens or at least numbs the melancholy
as my palette dulls in memory of my girl
and no sleight of hand could make his reappear.
-
It's really quite pathetic, you know.
-
This very courtyard, a refuge for us
where two forlorn men have been set up
as our eyes meet and we reminisce
about time with fallen angels
-
We have a kinship, a bond
the only reason we don't snap and
put ourselves or maybe each other
out of our shared misery
-
But then sometimes that seems the better route.