Robert Two

Tell me, tell me why, they treat me so unfair, my lips dissolve their cries, who says to run clear, call for stolen hurt, demand a veil of tears, I command a beautiful sight, candles scent the air, bells ring out the night, my life contains all grief, in yellow-robed nightshirts, fresh from sleep, I walk like a man gone by, through the city desolate, while they search my eyes, will they ring my feet, slash or burn my furs, ask them to entreat, these days without care, they love orators here, in darkness and green light, I'm ready to go first.