My love. My heart. My sweet, oh. My sky. My fire. My heat, oh. My work. My spring. My veil. My honey. My bomb. My grail. My gate. My gold. My thrown, oh.
I went walking down by the river. Feeling very sad inside. When all at once I saw in the sky. The little white cloud that cried. He told me he was very lonesome.
"And if one day I should become. A singer with a Spanish bum. Who sings for women of great virtue. I'd sing to them with a guitar. I borrowed from a coffee bar.
The cops had the boys. up against the car. down santa monica boulevard. baby food for the rich and sick. thank la for spawning it. High piled hair. low slung breasts.
Drawing back the curtains. Sluggish city daylight in the afternoon. Here's that special silence. Just before you walk out of the hotel room. Each time we're so close I assume.
He brings me flowers every morning. He brings the world onto my bed. He makes my bedroom into spring time. Violets, gardenias, roses red. . He brings me tea and serves me chocolate.
Oh there he goes. The king with the wooden crown. A throne alone. He's looking so sad and alone. . King of his world. He roams through his kingdom at night.
My love, my sweet, my king. My child whom I adore. My love, my sweet, my law. My other self. You are the setting sun. Fallen to the ground. You are my final spring.
It was the morning after the month before. And I'm looking like a nose with eyes. Take a trip or letter to make me feel better. Cos I know my mirror never lies.
Oh God it's another night. And your head is feeling. Like a lump of lead. You should never have drunk. Those party-fours. You should of been home being good instead.
I dived into the pool. The cool, the blue from heat. The sun breathes fire. On Marrakesh. To burn the busy street. My brow the wet of fever. My throat the dry of sand.
It's gettin near. The magic hour. When I put on my blue crushed Velvet jacket. Turning up the music. Feel the beat I use it. A broken heart I lose it.
If you go away. On this summer's day. Then you might as well take the sun away. All the birds that flew in the summer sky. When our love was new. And our hearts were high.
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How good it must be. In your bed. Let me slip beneath the pile. The sky tells me nothing worthwhile. It will rain again it said. And me so alone in my bed.
From chrysanthemums to chrysanthemums. Our friends, they are departing. From chrysanthemums to chrysanthemums. Death gallows our dulcine'es. From chrysanthemums to chrysanthemums.
I'm sick of you tasting of somebody else. I might do the same to you myself. It's so hard. It's so god damn hard. . Living on a diet of liquor and pills.
Sometimes we touch. Sometimes we kiss. Sometimes we just look. In spiritual bliss. . In warmth or heat. In sound or vision. We like to come. To some decision.
She slips in and out of her dull imagination. That floats around the twilight of her tomb. Clutching her little treasures. That represent a happy moment.
It isn't the way that you look. And it isn't the way that you talk. It isn't the things that you say or do. Make me want you so. . It is nothing to do with the wine.