Batman and the Maid

Alex Mascarenhas's picture

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However sad for a true man
It has been said that a woman
Either loves or hates; she knows no medium
We have here two fates; we’ve here no premium
 
Batman throbs in death’s three throes
Found he’s facing fiendish foes
Vengefulness, ciao; no rhyme nor reason
Treasureless now; treated as treason
 
A case of spirits, a case of changes
Someone’s demerits, someone’s phalanges
Into putrid vinegar my sweetest wine’s turned
Sweetest weekend visitor today my love spurned
 
But the maid, the one, she’s picture-perfect
By no means a nun, most wanted object
 
I stroll astray up the Boulevard
Mjolnir’s away, mine’s the blue award
Woes sough; it’s scorching, beautiful
Mine’s now an empty crucible
 
The damsel in my dream, she’s gone
My lovely blue-eyed queen, fair swan
I ponder proposing; the call’s for as bold a move
I wonder, yes, willing; my quandary it may behoove
 
When I find my way home
Her word is froth with foam
I feel destitute, all stripped of her favor
My girl’s resolute; in her sound, no quaver
 
And back onto Norse, Valhalla’s for a hero slain
In battle or worse, that is the point when ends the pain
There’s no hero here, no hail nor hiss
I’m but a man, mere, no more no less
 
The damsel in my dream, she’s gone
My lovely blue-eyed queen, fair swan
Now solitude, deprived of her grace
No latitude, not more see her face
 
 
 
 

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