Aphrodite Don't Play Baseball
He's got genius, convoluted,
I got no resources and minor revelations,
I'm not playing charades with friends for pain,
I'm not tossing my hat into that ring,
I got no game,
Don't want no game.
Hoochie mama's running cards for the crown,
Conning wing-tipped marks to double down,
The players dance on in mocking scorn,
Blind in beauty, the child dances on,
Meanwhile, oblivion's feet tempt fate,
Not my game, I'm just a whispered gate.
Never knew what they had right on their tongue,
Threw away God, every single one,
But what do I know, I was just Love,
And what has that to do with God.