Devil Dust & Ashes

It's a rainy day in my LA today
No shadows chase in sunlight on my house walls
They want us to work and our children to play silly games
But the poet will never forget what he came here for

It's time for fake heroes to fall
As troubadours and jesters will take their right place
The madness waves this world is riding on
I'm talking to all the others, asking them to misbehave

To take their freedom and to follow northern wind
To breathe and smile against the lousy kings
With no masks or phoniness on their sleeves
Through grey doom of a Monday morning, to believe

Don't ask me to smile when I don't want to
Don't ask me to be someone who's not me
Inside, I've got too much unspoiled freedom
That only few of you can really see in me

And when you're overwhelmed by destiny
You'll leave the empty talking, talking to the clowns
Never surrender to the sanity
Forever only are the night, the savage moors and the vows

In these hours of passion's absence
On this unwinding stairway of seasons
I'm looking up to the devil's dust and ashes
And give my poet's wilderness its reason

The canyon's calling me by echo of a sunset sound
Its prophets, angels, and the dreamers
Only a poet knows how to turn the time around
The others see what is price of freedom