She took that step that took her where
She could feel my golden hair
But she was empty and she always knew so
But she pretended she was full
And brought us from those men so dull
Who decide everywhere that we go
So far beyond those summer nights
Those cut up hands and angry fights
I entered into butlery for her
And amongst her staff of us
Over me she made a fuss
And watched me everyday with but a stir
But my eyes turned only to his throne
His eyes of silver, face of stone
And dreamt of all the places we could go
But she never gave up her ways
And I knew for him I must stay
So Iâ??d not let her give up and let me go
She took me to her room of red
And laid me down upon her bed
And sang to me as though I were I child
She held me close up to her chest
And I will not describe the rest
Except that, for my part, the thrill was mild
What fascinated me the most
Was that the houses other host
Had slept upon this bed the other night
Thinking of the things he loved
And praying to the ones above
That heâ??d not lose what it was that night
I wondered what this man of grace
Whose eyes never set on my face
Could love so much as to pray at night
This woman lying next to me?
No, I doubted it could be
For he gave her up to me without I fight
But I did not want nor love this girl
The thought of her made me nearly hurl
And yet, I needed her to get to him
But far beyond the land of lust
There lay the problem of her trust
For secrets nearly always reach the brim
Oh, but would she even really care?
â??Twas only my golden hair
That drove her to this night, and to this room
For she loved not even her self
Her soul was resting on some shelf
And she was only leading me to doom
If he found out, he wouldnâ??t care
For he doesnâ??t love my golden hair
He gives me nothing, not even a thought
But then again, I saw him look
Although he seems to read a book
I see with love those sunshine eyes are wrought
But visions of his eyes, only me wanting
Not ever me actually seeing
For we dream of things we want sometimes
But in the end, the loveâ??s what counts
In immeasurable amounts
For crimes of love are the only crimes
