Maybe Baby (Be My Baby-Edit)

[TranquillityBase]

Baby has no doubts
shouts me down
burns me inside out.

Baby’s always on the make, 
to her, I’m just another fake.
Baby always plays
in her desert of days

for the jackals of pleasure
and just for good measure
reduces the fusion
to bless my confusion.

Baby knows how to fly  
across my bent nickel sky
gives my puppet moves
to a dance she chooses.

Baby’s no whore
on a sure fingered tour
and I’m never done
until Baby counts one.

Baby has no doubts
shouts down satellites
making my love an interruption
a flaking conjunction,
licks the gunpowder off my hands
never turns around
except to signal goodnight.

Baby has more to say
than a splintering bomb on a holy day
cutting the wires of salvation
letting me fall one finger at a time
lifting up my sacred dementia
tossing it in a roadside bin.

Baby is coming in my direction
on a live end street
leading to a refused desert
where saints wander barking
at moons of distraction.
Baby’s got no knees if you please.

Baby has to play “no way”
for the jackals of pleasure
in time to the music of nursery requiems
reducing the fusion
to absolute confusion.
Baby’s hum across the bent nickel sky
knows the journey

a contorted trickle half-way to Heaven.
Baby makes my puppet move
as smooth as baby wants it to.