The skull of the ancient man

After we found the skull of the ancient old man
The flat insipid love triangle delving where it can
There seemed no need for baton passing no need for violins
An atrocious chaos star exploding devil dancing sins.

You reached inside my heart and massaged the essence of my soul
A miner of my inner thoughts that lifted me amongst the strife and rigmarole
Danced and fishnet stocking lured me with a torch and lamp
And I fell for it all, the second the hour the clock of time the eventual stamp.

So I moved away into a backward and reversed corruption of the internal
Jumped from the mush of rooms to the claustrophobic hellish infernal
A life saver it turns out you were not, yet in the end I can't abandon you as a friend
Perhaps I'll regurgitate informative internal hope that this is really not the end

Of the knot. The tied, the rope, around my bleeding scorched neck.
I will continue to question and to fight for a new beginning. The dot of ink in a fleck
Like a feather on the philosophers tower back,  whipped within an inch of his life
I shall remain, alone in the steam of the wolfs nostrils, arctic trouble, dalliances, strife

So I wandered and wondered in a fairies dust that encouraged me for one final session
In the history of me providing a massive shoulder to cry on and I'll be the passion
Just let me be the beginning and the end of the perfect sentence
A little heart and a little love and the collapse of percerverience.