A master
Our maestro
You have written for me
A part, a role in this
Sacred Queer Musical Story
You who can strip a tune of its words and melody
As deftly as a lover
Find its soul and re-clothe it
In new yet strangely familiar syntax…
Scrumbly I owe you my career
Many of my best memories
I would bare my flesh for your pretty songs any day
Act out your perverse theatrical fantasies every night
Ride into the eternal Cockettes sunset with you
Cum the Apocalypse
I would bear your standard
And sing your praises
Until the Angels themselves
Hummed your tunes.