Iron in the Fire

Am I losing control crying over spilt milk
Playing full, a big role, falling smooth as-a-silk
Would my portrait appear on the walls of museums
Faraway being near — so it goes, as it seems

In the fire burns iron and steam spreading round
Send me senses, Lord Byron, from under-the-ground
I’d them catch into sound & seize where is bound
To conceive clear as mud what I’ve lost, what I’ve found
What I’ve lost, what I’ve found…

Am I loosing my pride chasing tails, beating airs
Guiding Valkyrie’s ride to the foot of our stairs
Would parade stream of stars up the Square of Red
Or I dwell deep in scars spilling wine over bread

In the fire burns iron and steam spreading round
Send me senses, Lord Byron, from under-the-ground
I’d them catch into sound & seize where is bound
To conceive clear as mud what I’ve lost, what I’ve found
What I’ve lost, what I’ve found…

Am I losing control crying over spilt milk
Playing full, a big role, falling smooth as-a-silk?