of a prophetess

doorknobs are no longer encrusted
though that which shines does show a rustic
look of a kind
a kind of faith that was made that was thus left
far behind

that which has lasted just for a long time
though he seems rusted ive still got a smile behind
my manner
and when im blind im not expected
to be at all vision inclined
of lust im not trusted yet, he gives me some
and like a spanner just give me some time
and ill write all in a song when im done

I wish when I felt the dirty old man
that he would remind
i think of he at a time
when shining on down  like his youth
that thought I recline on
now his breath stinks and escapes underneath of his teeth and makes the birds weep
a decrepit song
shining is all a pearls made for and when its buggered its gone