I thought I was guarded
but your walls make mine
look positively usurped, Ace-carded,
yours becoming a picket line.
You won't let me in,
I know that.
Only on a level which
provides no sustenance.
But whilst I can go hungry,
living on spirit alone,
I will not be left outside like a dog,
wounded, calling my owner.
I will find my own home one day:
maybe you're willing me on to this
and if this is the case
then I thank you.
I will keep my Mongolian Horde
from your Great Wall;
but it will fall one day
and I'll be sad to see it razed.
You know, it's just not the kind
of love I want: I won't be a haunt,
nor a ghost. But I want to be haunted -
I want that the most.