Redemption and a Prairie Fire

I've learned, if I've learned anything,
That "never" has no place in the main ring.
You can turn your lover from the inside out.
Irish whiskey in the cupboard, saved for the title bout.
Old memories and beleaguered years keep rising to the top of the cream.
I think just maybe you might have heard those muted screams.
Directed to a pillow.
In the midst of a dark midnight.
Nothing ever told me, "You don't have the right."
In fact, it's the exact opposite.
All this regard brings the wondering to the top of it.

To the top of everything, where we breathe sweet helium.
And a sad note only lasts a minute.
Forgiving a satisfied wound is a perfect tune.
You can only tell someone enough of what they want to hear.
And they can only tell you everything you might have to fear.
But I've heard it before.
And there's NO WAY I'll listen.
Especially when I know the score.

I compensate my English with a dark blood wit.
I could shudder to think, and throw the towel to quit.
But there's something in me that won't die,
And I damn sure won't lose on the back end.
When you're as blessed as I am, you're blind to the floor.
In a place where less is more.
I'll pretend.
The great secret is that I don't have to.
What you see is what you get.
And all the change that comes in between has already been spent.

I do use what I need,
And I'll be damned if there's a place for greed.
There is the relief in knowing that when I get to the bottom of this glass, I'll find rest.
I'll sleep on it and wake in the morning to something beautiful and refreshed.
It's with focus that I train my desire,
And I can make things work through redemption,
In the middle of a prairie fire.