Don’t come running
Panting, gasping, throbbing, weeping
On bended knees
When rainbows cease shining
And bougainvilleas stop blooming
When no pot of gold gleams on the horizon
On the boulevard of broken dreams
Where once upon a time
With glee, you sang, with feeling,
“Promises, promises”
To the tune of an elegiac Dionne Warwick
Burt Bacharach must be
Rising from his grave
When dreams crumble
And all else fails
Please remember
In that game of chess we played
You made your move
What blinded love
The Queen’s gambit
You picked your choice
Overwhelmed my voice
In the wilderness of it all
Let it be
I wish you well
A prayer of forgiveness
An air of nonchalance
But, don’t ask me, please
To wipe the tears of a million and one
Off your weary eyes
As they smudge the cheap
Foundation on your moon-cratered face,
Hiding an even more wretched life
Under shanties and bridges
Camouflaging a soul sold to the devil,
Dear old Mephistopheles.
When the last hour comes
As you wallow furthermore
To sink, not sing, then drown
Into the darkened labyrinth
The cesspool of your low life
Where rainbows can’t shine through
And tomorrow is not another day.
Don’t come running
Panting, gasping, throbbing, weeping
Bougainvilleas stop blooming
When rainbows cease coming.
