My Favorite Story

what a fantasy I long to hold. you make a delightful comedy of every night. truth be told, you are best for my soul. i'll chase your shadow; even that, I am mad for.
i recall-with utmost vividness-the lineage of muses gone before me, before you; the characters that touch my imagination when I become inspiration. i recall particularly, one moment in time: when a glimpse of you brought into view a palace sitting of my most ancient muses. your form: careful architecture for pillars of the greatest warriors. if you aren't the prayer even legends' legends uttered, if you aren't peaceful tears of the heavens- translated into the painter's sunshine and the singer's rain; why then does your speech take me into this voyage: far into the heart of the sky and the secrets of ancients. you're my muse, my glory; if i lived before this day, i am unsure and like it quite this way. you're my opium, my favorite story.
i'll carry you with your baggage as we forever are reborn in the image of our blending shadows. our darkness know comfort with one another and that's the story I'm proudest of. you, you take me as your love line, your blood line, through the passage of all time; when you hold our fantasy, you ignore passion's demise. down the blood line, in our past lives, i stole neptune and made it yours, now they say it holds the dreams of every population's lineage. let's keep it secret, how we've saved our fantasies in that great mass for several centuries. our love has become a tribute to every night and it's dreamers' lost plight: images of our love's might and inhibitions lost to such delight.
will you watch again, and spot the comedy of the night sky? as the sun and the moon take turns in peeking at neptune's dreams- dreams of our dreams and greatest fantasies. those are the stories i'm most proud of; and you, i'll always be mad for.