You Wouldn't Know Clockwise If It Bit You

Here's the deal: you steel yourself

To your beloved 

Randomness that plaything

So roundabout you can fling

All else away, sway to 

The rhythm of the campsite

Supposedly clear and clean

Of will points you randomly

Relay a figurative bitumen

Among men let's say 

A waylaid prayer for pox

And the flock of dead birds

Purrs in your headphones

Phonetically pinching 

Their place in the face

(Your face) of fake diamantes