Vixens and Vinaigrette (O.T.S)

He wore a warrior on his ring
He was an aficionado to the king
There he learned to point this finger in three different ways
Leaving his parting words to linger at least for three more days
He couldn’t tell the difference from night and apple pie
He wrote of many things but never once did he lie
He could play the fingerless violin whenever it broke dawn
He lived in a suitless cabin where he never mowed the lawn

With the sorcerer imagination, he did ride
And there he learned how to tell the time
Recently the builders stopped building all his dreams
Their on strike for him to return their material things
The soldiers are conjuring crystals
In hopes that they will someday recruit him
He is reading through his scrolls
In hopes that he will someday see through them

He always says he feels so disconnected
Disconnected from what he himself has created
He says to the outcasts”follow me,
I will make you great slaves it is my destiny!
The bards will sing of us forever,
Once they see us pass through the never!”
He screams as his battle cry
And they scream back at him “lies, lies, now you get to die!”

If the ace of spades holds his heart
And the ace of clubs plays his part
Then soon enough his diamonds will reveal
That there is nothing here for him to conceal
He carries a suitcase made of leather
Whenever he sings songs about the weather
His hat is made of wax
It makes up for what his conscience lacks

And when they cut him off from his wordless weapons
He will just stand there and shout street names at them
His bricks attacked his thief, the rider killed the night
In one fight his fort it fell, but he told himself it would be alright
As the people scrounged for the pieces of what once stood
And putting rings on there shoulders, in good merit to those that would
He just stood there mumbling about wine and cigarettes
So he went off to find some vixens and vinaigrette