I was always working steady

I was always working steady But I never called it art I got my shit together Meeting Christ and reading Marx It failed my little fire But it’s bright the dying spark Go tell the young messiah What happens to the heart There’s a mist of summer kisses Where I tried to double-park The rivalry was vicious The women were in charge It was nothing, it was business But it left an ugly mark I’ve come here to revisit What happens to the heart I was selling holy trinkets I was dressing kind of sharp Had a pussy in the kitchen And a panther in the yard In the prison of the gifted I was friendly with the guards So I never had to witness What happens to the heart I should have seen it coming After all I knew the chart Just to look at her was trouble It was trouble from the start Sure we played a stunning couple But I never liked the part It ain't pretty, it ain't subtle What happens to the heart Now the angel’s got a fiddle The devil’s got a harp Every soul is like a minnow Every mind is like a shark I’ve broken every window But the house, the house is dark I care but very little What happens to the heart Then I studied with this beggar He was filthy, he was scarred By the claws of many women He had failed to disregard No fable here no lesson No singing meadowlark Just a filthy beggar guessing What happens to the heart I was always working steady But I never called it art It was just some old convention Like the horse before the cart I had no trouble betting On the flood, against the ark You see, I knew about the ending What happens to the heart I was handy with a rifle My father’s .303 I fought for something final Not the right to disagree