She

A self-fulfilling prophecy;
an enigmatic mystery.
You hold her close
but are no closer
to the thoughts that whirl within.

And would you change that, if you could?
Skin her alive
tear her apart
make her yours
make her pay
sweet Cupid's price.

Would you change her, if you could?
Stop this chase
this endless rag
this danse macabre.

O, listen close and you will hear
the tale of ages in her glance
Silly ditties and jingle jangles
you are hers
but she is not yours.
She is not yours,
and that's the way you like it
for who can tire of that
which they never have?

You are afraid
and hold her tighter in the night
she puts the truth to the lie
that you are.