In Answer...

Monica Richards

I have heard recent knockings and wondered aloud in song
The Worth of those years as bound Inspiration.

I'll speak the truth though it may be hard to hear it
That part of me, that lithe and fierce spirit
Made prisoner yet molded in my image
Choose, Fate, choose: Mother or Lover, Muse or Martyr/p>

Tenderest to those who won't own me
Singing on for another generation
Traded for a life turned upside-down.

I can no longer be the captured Symbol
The personal Siren shining like freedom
Stalked by silent unforgiving reflections
Choose, Fate, choose: Lover or Martyr, Muse or Mother

My head full of heat from one hour's sleep
Lost in the shine of the moment.
In this moment - there is love,
And nothing but this moment matters.
And I touch all the eyes that know who I am and where we began.

Desiring to save, resigned to their delusions,
Attracting their secrets and deepest wishes,
Imagine the taste of a heart bled to dust.
Choose, Sister, choose: Mother or Lover, Muse or Martyr

umb to talons in my creations
From which unknown imaginations
Expect the Song to be the Human./p>

I can no longer be the captured Symbol
Conjuring their embrace and feverish whispers
Repeating Youth's passions and locked-lust nightmares
Choose, Sister, choose: Mother or Martyr, Muse or Lover

My head full of heat from one hour's sleep.
Found in the shine of the moment.
In this moment - there is love,
And nothing but this moment matters.
As I take them all to a place where everything makes sense again.

And all those that agree.
And all those if they please.
Can bring themselves to love.
And lay their hands upon me.
And lay their hands upon me.