fait ac•com•pli \ 'fát-e-,käm-pl é
(a thing accomplished and presumably irreversible)
Stirring in the dead of night, To the echo of your refrain
Challenged by the haunting light, Of a habit that's so deeply ingrained
That's been there since I can remember, Takes me over when I feel at pains
Controls and destroys me all over, This your picture and the noise that you make
Until it grabs me by the soul, Arrests my innocent face
Takes me among the low-life, This relief from your calming refrain
Until it grabs and consumes my impatience, And I feed on your plaintive disdain
This intercourse with you I desire, Anxious words that I utter, insane
By day I can't hope to concentrate, Just your voice can drive me insane
Something I can't hope to live without, To starve would be fear uncontained
Your presence can seize my emotions, Overcome me again and again
And your words that speak to me wisdom, Haunt me and leave me ashamed
And Me? I'm just one among many thousands, Who you inspire to innovate
That dares to try to get closer, To the energy you generate
And when it consumes its heaven to taste, A need you so knowingly satiate
The cure I'm down on my knees for, A destiny that can only be fait...
