THAT LONESOME LAD

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John Mercy

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I awoke with your breath. 
Your hand pressing on my chest. 
A sudden gush of wind ‘round my neck, while the floor was running wild. 
That’s when the fever broke, and I became that lonesome lad, without voices in his head. 
And how I miss them, how I dearly miss them. 
Like a bird without wings, or a fish with absent fins: I lost the north to the wolves, and the south to colder dreams. 
Madness takes its time then it lasts forever. It lasts Forever. 
Underneath the shallow dreams of old, there lies something to be told about the words I heard her speak about the apocalypse. 
But it wasn’t what she said, it was how she spoke to me: an old confession professing belief – a revelation beyond my grief. 
Madness took its time and I’m not That lonesome lad without voices in his head. 
They keep me company, they keep me company. 
Madness, take your time and stay forever. Stay forever. Stay Forever. 
“But remember this”, she said, “and don’t forget it”, she spoke: “that I won’t be your friend, and I am not your lost flame. 
You’ve been told Harry: It was you who called on me when you sold your soul down the river. 
Those were your chains, not my hands that brought us close and enslaved us both to the devil down the river. 
Oh down the river. 
Down the river, oh down the river I became your slave, your slave. 
And how I miss those days those long black days when I became your slave. 
Now I miss those days those long black days when I wondered and wondered how I miss those days those long black days when I became your slave. 
Now I miss those days those long black days when I wondered and wondered how I miss those days those long black days when I became your slave. 
Now I miss those days those long black days when I wondered and wondered how I miss those days those long black days when I became your slave

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