Sanatorium, women
By Mark Heathcote
- 635 reads
Sanatorium, women
I’m under lock and key
Trap in a web of delirium...
Never to break free
From those sweet interims
Of your loves insanity, misery!
Sanatorium, women
If I hadn’t learnt to cry
If I hadn’t met with you:
Then I wouldn’t have died
Just to breathe
In the emptiness of your; mind.
Sanatorium, women
Am I so glad I died?
In your make believe world
Am I so glad I
Even cried just to fly
Like a yellow winged bird.
Oh, sanatorium, women
There’s a spiral of incandescent light
Falling through the leaves of green
And a drowning in the night
Of a day never met
Nor sanely seen!
Here I’m drinking in oblivion...
Here I’m drinking in oblivion...
Here I’m dancing with you again
My conjugal insane, Queen!
Sanatorium, women
I’m under your lock and key
Imprisoned in some inner sanctum
Imprisoned in some mysterious bedlam
Never to be free
Never to break; away...
So, sanatorium, women
What’s my health plan?
Now I’m under your lock and key
Will you freeze me like the snow
And make me your iceman
Till I go.
Oh, my sanatorium, women
What’s my health plan?
Now I’m growing old
Surely you’ll still pacify me
With those sweet interims
Of insanity!
Surely you’ll still pacify me
And humour me
And lead me blind
Into my own unfeelingly oblivion
Into my, own; mysterious, bedlam.
In madness consigned.
Watch the pendulum!
The black dog, run around...
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