Liam the lover entertains his congregation

They smile, the pleasures all theres

And they laugh and they applaud as he holds their attention

The master of ceremonies, he is king.





But pretty soon time will take him away

Alone without a soul to soothe, he will stay

And he cant seem to see or understand

That theres more to understand





Patrick the painter sets his quill to the canvas

He smiles, hes where he loves to be

And in magenta and lime, he will fly

Across the cream oasis and black India line





But pretty soon time will take him away

Without a real life to live, he will stay

And he cant seem to see or understand.



Liam makes her laugh

As Patrick paints the feel

Of her hair

Across his face





He says goodnights

He cleans the black ink from the quill

Left with a space the others filled





And there they lay

The lovers grin relaxes as

Dalmatian-spotted, callused fingers

Stare across the room

and see the other cry



Liam and Patrick am I

And both are restless...