Apollo's Frock

put me back in the cold

I'm going to Antarctica

it feels like these days,

our old meeting place,

in an LA cafe

or on the Serengeti,

the hunt has not Begun.

cause I am tired of you taking from me

and I have let you eat from the fruits of my tree

I am not the one to turn into a Laurel wreath

for the last time you have crossed my line

you could never see

you could never see

Apollo's frock

was always as beautiful

always as beautiful as

the saddest rainstorm

Apollo your frock

was always as beautiful

always as beautiful

as your sister's

that your light shined on

how can you think you've won

when there can be no winners

the soul has been lost

of the bow and quiver

do you remember

well I remember

amid the clashing of swords

I'm losing you in my rear view

and I have called the Shekhina in

and the ninefold and a few other friends

you and your predators were warned

if the cubs were drawn in

for the last time you would officially

cross my line

you could never see

never see

Apollo's frock