All those women I have envied with their pink and foolish faces,
Moths that have out-distanced me in circling round your head,
For the strangeness of your kisses and the curse of your embraces
And the frenzy of pursuing where your despot feet have led.
Moths that have out-distanced me in circling round your head,
For the strangeness of your kisses and the curse of your embraces
And the frenzy of pursuing where your despot feet have led.
I will shout, and tear the darkness; I will snuff the candles sacred
With the rage of my abasement, with the blast of my farewell;
I will smile with cynic softness, but my tears are dropping acrid
And sizzling in a gutter down the white-hot streets of Hell!
With the rage of my abasement, with the blast of my farewell;
I will smile with cynic softness, but my tears are dropping acrid
And sizzling in a gutter down the white-hot streets of Hell!
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