Jennifer Rostock U.S.
Diadem

It’s just before somewhere
Theresa doesn’t need a gigolo
She’s beguiled by personalities
Everyone wants to ride her horse

Fine men on sore knees
Who secretly disappear in fantasies
Everyone becomes her subject
It’s the old living on the edge

Break your heart
Give me my diadem
And turn, turn

Marquise hand-in-hand with Leopold
Not everything that glitters is wanted by God
But the recluse succumbs in the shadows of anonymous intimacy
As soon as the wind turns

With his leash in her hand
And his back to her wall
And the old woman whistles that old song
Up in Charlotte Street

Break your heart …

She combs her hair with her golden comb
And sings her song
His ship crashes into the reef
When he hears her and looks her way

Stir the embers, the anger, the sparks
Riveting-heavy-as-lead-humbly-drunk
Master turns to subject
It’s the old living on the edge

Break your heart …