How did it come to be
That those who pay me attention
Become my grand seigneur?
They see me, and know me, and own me,
Just like that, no battle need
Be fought, like I’ve been waiting
To surrender all my life,
And to become the priest of what you claim,
With monstrances and holy oils
To smooth out the implications,
And my head converts to a library
Of words you said to me,
And you become strong,
Too strong to ever counter,
When my mind is just a fragile will
To stay inside the border
Of oblivion.
