Feliks Derbarmdiker PASSION'S LACKEYS "If you don't run me crazy, You gonna make me lose my mind." —Son House While you are far, Spring-less cold seasons envelop. Shoulders of emerald are Murky, dirty green. While you are far, Budding branches on a birch shrink away. Roomful of daisies wilts away... I'm searching for the train To break through every fleeting instant; To hold every red lock of yours; To pull you by the arm, wrapping it Around my neck, I feel down, I feel down. But I can only write about you. Call me cold and call me severe— But I can't feed all the starving children. I am thinking of only two people; Double-selfishness when I think Of you and me. Sneaking into each other's minds, Squeezing one last hot breath; Slaves to passion do not suffer.