Eddies of Fate

In the middle of the irishman's laughter 
shines a bucket of doubloons as long as a river
and the woman he can't unthink 
who makes him stink so sweetly
of decadence and music
in the smoky gloom of every after hour room
in the perfect moments
when he must consume whiskey or wine
to disconnect and become divine
there is no greater gift than the slowest death
built upon the rocky sands that descend
and steal his beauty, betrothed to another man
no wonder why his age overcame his youth
and a drop of liqour is always left
in the last moment of truth
before he succumbs to the night
with a story he forgets to tell
of his rebirth in the light
and his unawareness of hell
while she languishes in serene clothes
hoods and deep plush robes
beneath her skin she glistens 
so amused when he listens
to some sweet distinct musician 
her eyes always give her away 
she knows when he wants to play 
she can throw him away with a word or two
but she doesn't know him so well
he's afraid to pursue but he desires
to make her every wish come true