My voice has not yet entirely recuperated from this weekend, and I messed up the guitar a teensy bit at the end, but here ya go.



i may not be sweet enough for your kingly lips to kiss
i may not be dull enough for your worried eyes to miss
lips painted red
head hanging low
some kind of dreamer he never could know
eyes glowing wild
oh quiet thing
grow up to be tall and his everything
pull out your hair
and the sword from the stone

anonymity fast the night slings over soundly sleeping eyes
dreams like brambles grow briskly to dampen such princely-uttered sighs
not always solace does the night bring
cradled in quivering arms of the king
laden with hope
for a good word
be the first good word this old child has heard
face laced with care
back straight like a throne

someone whispered it sweet to me
it was destiny
i would grow to be
just another one of you
bloated with every point of view

vines of slumber come swiftly tonight over tightly closed red lips
press my voice to a whisper and body to just a wisp