| I took your door bell and rang up the city
|
| I rolled your fags. |
| And it made me feel pretty
|
| One gun held against my shoe
|
| And the other one pointing at you
|
| You were all so very lovely
|
| My hands were in the air
|
| Fell in love right in the beginning
|
| I swear, I swear, I swear
|
| Good god. |
| As if they were empty
|
| I filled up my pockets, until I had plenty
|
| Plenty of things belonging to you
|
| Your schools, your fools, your blues
|
| You were all so very lovely
|
| My hands were in the air
|
| Fell in love right in the beginning
|
| I swear, I swear, I swear
|
| I collected the ghosts that would sleep in your hair and I stole all the words
|
| they hung into the air
|
| And with them I shaped a pen and a chair, in which I sit, sing and scribble
|
| I composed a dog barking in vain, and with it the silence behind its complaints
|
| And with that the highways that take things away, and then discovered that
|
| there are no endings
|
| And now that I am so completely of you, I do not understand what I do
|
| Dear all, I am full of your blood
|
| Full of your absence
|
| Full of your love
|
| Full of your words
|
| That will tear me apart
|
| Apart from everything
|
| In mid-air blinding the shades
|
| The sun appears and I get carried away
|
| That was it my truthful account of what it’s about |