Kings and Queens of the Wallflowers
You have sat at the edge of parties
Calling out the names of the various faces
That swaggered at you in their drunken haze
Fondling the passions of their hearts before you
Tossing them like dice carelessly
Letting them fall where they may
Taking chance for a blushing debutante
Ripe for the ramming
While you sat there with your passions
Held in your hands
Examining them like sacred saphires
Wanting to determine their every flow and crack
Before hewing them into preciousness
Wearing them upon your crown
As you went out upon the world
Praying that that moment
Would be your coronation.