The End of the Space Opera

There's this girl

There's this boy walking on
Tip toes
He wobbles his way across the violet landing
and needs sugar to sweeten his disposition...
Nothing is more sorrowful then that!
Crows and doves, harps for demons
wishing I was something to seek
for her I will only be
the closest desire of humanity.
The cotton ball soaked in soul juices,
smelling of Godly rum cake
an acrid taste in the nether regions
of human desire, the unclean dinner plates
because I was twelve, in France
elated by effervescent ambrosia
of lonely Caesar's wings.
I am ready for action!
I am ready for her lips
Come now sweet embrace, let's hold hands
and dinner plates.
Maybe.
And angels sit down to dinner
while dogfaced daemons growl beyond the door.
The devil's in the dirty dishes,
lovingly we baptize them.
And the asparagus, the cleanest
cut of them all, diagonal,
acting as asparagus will, in devious ways.
So let us do our best and taste sweet wine
Because someday our hopes will be revealed
In search of greener pastures.

Written by Ian, Micah and Rose