| And here I dreamt I was a soldier
|
| And I marched the streets of Birkenau
|
| And I recall in spring
|
| The perfume that the air would bring
|
| To the indolent town
|
| Where the barkers call the moon down
|
| The carnival was ringing loudly now
|
| And just to lay with you
|
| There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do
|
| Save lay my rifle down
|
| And try one, and try two
|
| Guess it always comes down to
|
| All right, it’s okay, guess it’s better to turn this way
|
| And I am nothing of a builder
|
| But here I dreamt I was an architect
|
| And I built this balustrade
|
| To keep you home, to keep you safe
|
| From the outside world
|
| But the angles and the corners
|
| Even though my work is unparalleled
|
| They never seemed to meet
|
| This structure fell about our feet
|
| And we were free to go
|
| And try one, and try two
|
| Guess it always comes down to
|
| All right, okay, guess it’s better to turn this way
|
| And here in Spain I am a Spaniard
|
| I will be buried with my marionettes
|
| Countess and courtesan
|
| Have fallen beneath my tender hand
|
| When their husbands were not around
|
| But you, my soiled teenage girlfriend
|
| Or are you furrowed like a lioness
|
| And we are vagabonds
|
| We travel without seatbelts on
|
| We live this close to death
|
| And try one, and try two
|
| Guess it always comes down to
|
| All right, it’s okay, guess it’s better to turn this
|
| But I won, so you lose
|
| Guess it always comes down to
|
| All right, it’s okay, guess it’s better to turn this way |