We’ll gather the haruspices &
I’ll dream of worthier endeavors
Pitching my lance against a sanguine sky.
Let me tell you why this door won’t open :
First, a body cannot be hairy, it cannot be fat,
My stomach grows convex in a long climax :
I cannot approach the distant one
In such condition.
Also, a married chemist lives
By the sympathy of the elements :
He is tied by covalent bonds
Until some reaction manifests itself.
Then, when reaching the castle,
Our Saint-Georges would have to fight
Against a dragon allied to a princess
Subject to a Stockholm syndrome.
What good would it bring to fight so hard for a masturbation ?
Given the odds, let us not cast these dice,
For I prefer not to march in despair to the lava lake.
But let me sing in the bell tower,
I’ll send postcards, I’ll keep on packing trifles
For crowned heads never to be seen in the flesh.
Image credit : Saint George and the dragon – Tlibissi