Tilda

Tilda, why would you ever give yourself to one man?
Sit with me for tea. We'll discuss this like women.
You may have me on board for your revolution,
But I warn you, my dear, I'm a stubborn romantic.

You know, in your milieu, I can almost see your shade
Of the old avant-garde; must be reveling with brilliance,
For it bore a noble girl who'd become a renegade,
And this freaky little boy can relate to your reason.

But these are stranger days
And hearts just can't be changed
And while these delusions I've made refuse to fade,
I just can't join in your crusade.

Tilda, I doubt we'd ever try to go "common man".
The arthouse deplored any need for convention,
And while the bourgeois ideal makes for so-called Philistines,
Their policies on love run amok in my belfry.

The fairytale remains
Their only one cliche.
And while I hold out for the day
I'm lead astray, and I find peace
In my mistake...?

Tilda, there's still a chance my mind could change.
Tilda, there's still a chance my mind could change.