Baby of the Cave

The airplanes look finer than the planets and the stars
The dilution of rubies on the water from the cars
Makes the gloaming more boring than the mornings ever are
Do you love me, my baby of the cave?

While Eros won Psyche, he can hardly annex mine
For i furnish my army with the lies he leaves behind
But the suffrage of my passion must be spaciously confined
To a plaything of my baby of the cave

If baby says as baby is, then it's easy to ignore it
But every word is relative to the thought that came before it

On the subject of object, i wag a passive fist
In emphatic lysdexia, i factitiously exist
Without my dark glasses, i cannot tell if something is
I'll refer it to the baby of the cave

What baby wants is what baby gets, i do attempt to sate her
And everything she now regrets is regretted by me later

When Our Father wrote David, it was over a DM
So why should i be more sanctimonious than them?
In despondence, correspondence is to desolate mayhem
As a knight is to a vassal or a knave
I'm blind but i'm out of the cave