Luck Is No Lady

I've got what I wanted: nothing at all,

imagining rain and embracing the fall,

even by midnight I still have my shoes,

my ride is a knight claiming he's got the blues.

My robe: silk and cotton and all things forgotten

no choices to make as there's nothing to choose.

I've spoken in silence: the pleasure is mine,

wherever I found it, whatever the time,

regardless of whether the pleasure is true;

the traveller aims for the distant and new.

The bits and the pieces, the Zevs and the Jesus,

the front row is packed and they're waiting for you.

I've sheltered the crazy, the violent and foul,

the desperate measures that begs you to howl

to be a knight rider pretending to care;

be seated, be cheerful, be – aware.

Luck is no lady, she's mean, drunk and shady,

the midnight has gone, but the pumpkin's still there.