| Let me call you darlin', maybe call you sweetheart
|
| Don’t you hate it when they call you Louise
|
| But isn’t it scary, when they want to call you Mary
|
| A whore, or a saint, or a tease
|
| But you came here in summer, you’d been living in Manhattan
|
| You caught me wide eyed and half sane
|
| But you saw to my center past every imposter
|
| And you whispered My True Name
|
| I have been Betty, Eleanor and Rosie
|
| I’ve been the shamed Magdaline
|
| And if the truth be known I’ve attempted Saint Joan
|
| Donna, and Sarah, and Jane
|
| For we all have our heros and we all have tormentors
|
| And we’ll play them again and again
|
| But you saw to my center, past every imposter
|
| And you whispered My True Name
|
| And if you see me standing on the banks of Lake Griffy
|
| Throwing white bits of paper to the wind
|
| I’m just throwing the shards, of all my calling cards
|
| And I’m speaking My True Name
|
| I’m just throwing the shards, of all my calling cards
|
| And I’m whispering My True Name |