Cri De Coeur - William Patrick Corgan

Close the door

Turn out the light

Savants, a pillbox please

A man’s overboard without dreams

While the actors sleep induced

And the artist’s bow draws down

Turn the dial, oh amulet

For the prince of sightless change

His carriage wept by

With all the trappings of death and saints

I’m sailing shale while shirking trust

And finding dawn in dusk

And Satan’s in the mangers of Troy

I’m bailing shale while shirking trust

And finding dawn in dusk

But only kings and queens may skip the void

‘Tis disaster, fie-i-o

I’ll tend these pyres for you

And poor William

He’s in the poor house with cagey souls

Take the pledge of the rodeo

Where mudders sheltered thee

And mothers pray for the tithe or leave of man

As we’ll come to understand them

A gerrymandering brought them free

Idolaters and those sanctified

In monographs and in jibes

Stand upon the alter

For an umpteenth repast of due fame

Say, bosom brave, Illumen mine

Suspended fine in crepe

Your papered children have been atomized

Say, bosom brave, illumen mine

Suspended fine in crepe

Your papered children have been atomized

‘Tis disaster, fie-i-o

I’ll tend these pyres for you

And poor William

He’s in the poor house with a ratlike soul