Screw the ones with the lonesome hearts because manipulation is at its finest during dark. We talk and we pray, converse and persuade, but the darkness reclaims the light.
She lives in a place where the darkness can’t reach, so far in a fairytale even I cannot beat. A fairytale somewhere too far for us to find, she closes her eyes, sees a dark paradise. Lonesome, so lonely, heart left so sad, a wonderland mistaken for a crude old man.
“The King, he reigns,” all the followers say, “The King, he is grand, we have to obey.”
Thought to be kindness, the King holds his own. Vivacious? No, his heart left oh so alone. Just as the lady is stuck in her land, the King holds his crown, sinking into quicksand.
Lonesome hearts are misleading, they really want love, but go to find it in ways that ache and disrupt. Hate to the fate that misleads you this way, but it is your darkness, not mine, that leaves bitter tastes.
So screw the ones with lonesome hearts, because manipulation is its finest at dark. Manipulate minds, manipulate me, my dear, my dear, oh how I shall flee. Create a place, a grand fairytale, with kings and queens and mad hatters, I will. To drink tea all day, mistake madness for wits, shrink and grow tall, play croquet with misfits. Battles and lovers, viridity unclaimed, I create fairytales of beliefs, not manipulation games.
Leave lonesome hearts alone in the dark because darling, they are not my thing. So we’ll sit and we’ll pout, let’s cry tears and self doubt, all for your little childish craves.
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