The Imposter
Heaven knows,
How, I missed that gaze,
You used to hold only for me,
But now, now I know,
You no longer love me.
Cause you love the child,
More than me.
So comes these things,
These familiar things.
Questions lost,
They are found.
What is a man?
What’s he got?
Trust funds or scotch?
Do they matter?
Did they matter?
Not for you,
I thought they didn’t matter.
I thought I had you,
And you had me.
In the gardens,
Down past Eden.
In the spring sides,
Under the falls.
I thought us as one,
Deep in my arms.
But now I know.
I don’t have you.
That thing has you,
While I have nothing.
Lord is it wrong for a man?
To love his love more,
Than a stranger which he’s supposed to love?
You used to love me,
But now you love it.
And I have to love it.
Though it stole you.
And yet there it is,
Oh that pretty smile,
Those pretty cries.
I cradle it.
I smother it.
I smother it!
I will smother it!
But alas it smiles, my smile.
It has my eyes.
In it I see myself,
Then I see it, me.
And now I know,
Now I know!
Why she loves it more than me!
Because you are me,
While I am, while I am,
Something not to love.
Was I ever something to love?
Someone to love?
So what happened then?
Was it the work?
Was it the Earth?
Those things up high?
Did the Devil take me,
While God blessed you?
Did God leave me,
And enter you?
I laughed and cried.
Then you laughed and cried,
So unlike me, yet so familiar.
And though a man, they should not cry,
I cried and said to you,
“I love you. So please, always love me too.”
