Little lover sittin' in the corner with a former member of the jets. He would write a letter to the editor about the little holes in her dress. She said Oh, I'm so bored.
Shes seen the whites of crazy eyes. Been in the camps of foreign spies. Taken lovers by surprise. The captives smile. But all the while she is wearing a disguise.
Oh the moon hangs down. Like some old evening gown. Forgotten by some lovely southern maiden. . Oh the stars are her tears. And the sky a skin of years.
First time I laid eyes on you. I checked myself right on outta this world. Just one thing can bring me back from this here heart attack. And that's your sweet lovin', girl.
You're a little on the thin side. But that's alright. You stood by me baby. When I didn't think we'd ever see daylight. . Rolled out of California. Like a couple of thieves.
You've been a good girl. You've been a bad girl. You're not a girl anymore. Deep in a picture show. Unbuttoned in the last row. You watched the grown-ups win the war.
When the moon is rising and the night is still. Some of my delusions have the power to kill. Scared I'll get what I deserve. Or maybe scared I won't. .
Take everything that we have. Take it and burn it to the ground. Some things were never meant to last. . Take it down, down, down. Take it down, take it down, down, down.
Take back all those kisses that you stole from me. Take back mister and misses to your family. Can't take broken dishes when we fight all day, hey. Take back all best wishes, did I hear you say.
I woke up in a hotel and I didn't know what to do. I turned the TV on and wrote a letter to you. The news was talkin' 'bout a dragnet up on the interstate.
When you feel the crush in the streets. And the people in the city. And the walls are closing in on you. You gotta get out of town, get away. Get away for the weekend.
If you grow tired of the friends you make. In case you mean to say something else. Say they were the best of times you ever had. The best of times with the thoughtless kind.
Words and music: lou reed & john cale. . The trouble with a classicist he looks at a tree. That's all he sees, he paints a tree. The trouble with a classicist he looks at the sky.
Words: dylan thomas. . There was a saviour. Rarer than radium,. Commoner than water, crueler than truth;. Children kept from the sun. Assembled at his tongue.
Yes she found her footsteps failing. Falling falling from the sky. Down from bangor with her eagles. Stepping out before her time. She did cry and she did fly.
There she goes again. She's out on the streets again. She's down on her knees, my friend. But you know she'll never ask you please again. Now take a look, there's no tears in her eyes.
Since the soul of Carmen Miranda had captured the mind of man. Dismissed with her generation for the price of a can-can. Consigned to the sideshows of history, with the patronized orphans of film.
Your mailbox is always empty. And your landlord always complains. And you try to forget your past. But it's just adding to your pain. And it's time for one more cigarette.
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