| What this night wants is what it gets
|
| Strung in silken knots
|
| Lit by cigarettes flaring side by side
|
| With the streets all wet
|
| As the only thing that’s bright
|
| And I don’t need to cross that bridge
|
| I find I’m swinging or sailing over the pit tonight
|
| I’m hanging from a hit tonight
|
| Was wild enough to order up and toss across my lips
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| What’s making all my tears
|
| Is taking all my fears away
|
| But I don’t need to cry
|
| Because now I’m clear
|
| A moth that’s swerving through the sage
|
| A creature crashing from a cage
|
| A shadow vaporized by a new sun ray
|
| A day she spends the night
|
| And I can hear her sighing
|
| As she’s almost asleep on one side
|
| I lie back on my pillow
|
| And ask what her husband is like
|
| And she says, «I smile polite
|
| And I tip and tithe
|
| And I see the sights with a well-trained eye
|
| But I calmly cry
|
| Because I’m too much mine without him
|
| And I lie, reclined where the room is quiet
|
| And it’s quiet at night
|
| The soft silk is fine
|
| And the waves are white
|
| But the wind has died without him
|
| And I scream my smiles
|
| And I want my wires and I need my stripes
|
| And I read the lines until I lid my eyes
|
| And I’m losing time without him
|
| And she says
|
| And I ignite inside
|
| And I flash with fire
|
| And I limp from life
|
| And I’m blazing blind
|
| And I’m surging live
|
| And give up my mind
|
| When with him
|
| And then every dream inside
|
| Turns to flames, fades to grey and is dying
|
| And the smoke rises into
|
| A white, blank, bare, broke-open sky |