On a morning from a Bogart movie In a country where they turn back time You go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre Contemplating a crime She
Said the apple to the orange I wanted you to come Close to me and kiss me to the core Then you might know me Like no other orange Has ever done before
Linda was killed last Saturday about fifteen blocks from where she lives In a car crash, people gathered around the graveside friends and relatives dressed
One day you fell Down from the sky You oversaw things Forgot how to fly You're an angry bird Walking in circles all alone Angry bird Now you don't belong
Long before I ever saw The frost upon your face I was haunted by your beauty And it drew me to this place I felt the chill of mystery With one foot on
The subway station's closed again Sleeps beneath its veil of rain My footprints broken trail behind Steals the night lights from my mind The dark deserted
Nothing that's forced can ever be right. If it doesn't come naturally, leave it. That's what she said as she turned out the light, And we bent our backs
One, two, three That's how elementary it's gonna be Just fine and dandy It's easy Like taking candy from a baby Primitive country Rich in minerals, you
What if you reached the age of reason Only to find there was no reprieve? Would you still be a man for all seasons Or would you just have to leave? We
Shots split the night, the bullet lodged in his brain He must have died instantly, he felt no pain A crowd quickly gathered to the feast of the gun Waiting
Sometimes it seems unimaginable That you were ever any other way With your white rose face and your orphan clothes Embroidered jeans and silver chains
You told the man in the Broadway Hotel Nothing was stranger than being yourself And he replied, with a tear in his eye "Love was a roll away, just a
Lucy worked at a different club every day And though she put her mind to it, her heart was never in it She stayed around just long enough to get paid
And in the evening when the day goes down She leaves the bright house lights Stands and watches with her coat pulled around As torches light the western
In the center of the field stands the favorite player The ball comes floating in They say a silent prayer for him Fifty yards away A minute left to
Constancy dwells in realms of perfection I hear the call Life is free and love is all Cleave to me Harmony holds forth pleasures abounding And love is
Across the western world the fights are going down The gypsy armies of the evening Have lit their fires across the nether side of town They will not pass
His flying jacket still has her perfume Memories of the night Play across his mind High above the fields of France A single biplane in a clear blue sky
