Inflammatory Writ lyrics

Oh, where is your inflammatory writ?
Your text that would incite a light,
`Be lit`?
Our music deserving devotion unswerving -
cry `Do I deserve her?` with unflagging fervor.
(Well, no you do not, if you cannot get over it)

And what`s it mean when suddenly we`re spent?
Ambition came and reared its head, and went.
Even mollusks have weddings, though solemn and leaden
but you dirge for the dead, thake no jam on your bread
- just a supper of salt and a waltz through your empty bed.

And all at once it came to me,
and i wrote and hunched `till four-thirty
But that vestal light, it burns out with the night
in spite of all the time that we spent on it:
one bedraggled ghost of a sonnet!
While outside, the wild boars root
without bending a bough underfoot-
O it breaks my heart; I don`t know how they do`t.

And as for my inflammatory writ?
Well, I write it an I was not inflamed one bit.
Advice from the master derailed that disaster;
he said `Hand that pen over to ME, poetaster!`
While across the great plains, keening lovely & awful,
ululate the last Great American Novels -
An unlawful lot, left to stutter and freeze, floodlit.
(But at least they didn`t run, to their undying credit.)
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