The Matador

I'll never let go of the lovely temptation
It laces the ground on my feet
I used to walk lightly
It haunted me nightly and
I could not compete

Now I'm drunk on the joy of the beautiful boys
They rebel and rouse in their cunning and coy
Their eyes big as planets and lips where the universe dies

That stunning companion of age is a covert illusion of grace
It pulls from my fingers and casually lingers the lines on my face
All of my fool abandonmend gone
Gratefully subject to carrying on
But years are a template never to sacrifice long

Suffer the sadness, it's not what it seems
It is useful and sweet
Like some kind of thirst that's insatiable first before falling asleep
Never too late for the fever to run
Faster and faster and never quite done
Youth is a banishment we are all prisoners in

Follow me down to a place where the sky is unborn
Follow me past all the oceans of glass to the lore
Follow me further and mark on my words:
I am a vision or haven't you heard?
I am the matador coaxing your love to my core.