Search results for: new-skin-for-the-old-ceremony

Alas, my love, you did me wrong,To cast me out discourteously,For I have loved you so long,Delighting in your very company.Now if you intend to show me disdain,Don’t you know it all the more enraptures me,For even so I still remain your lover in captivity. Green sleeves, you’re all alone,The leaves have fallen, the men

Field Commander Cohen, he was our most important spy.Wounded in the line of duty,Parachuting acid into diplomatic cocktail parties,Urging Fidel Castro to abandon fields and castles.Leave it all and like a man,Come back to nothing special,Such as waiting rooms and ticket lines,Silver bullet suicides,And messianic ocean tides,And racial roller-coaster ridesAnd other forms of boredom advertised

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,You were talking so brave and so sweet,Giving me head on the unmade bed,While the limousines wait in the street.Those were the reasons and that was New York,We were running for the money and the flesh.And that was called love for the workers in songProbably still is for

You were the promise at dawn,I was the morning after.You were Jesus Christ my Lord,I was the money lender.You were the sensitive woman,I was the very reverend Freud.You were the manual orgasm,I was the dirty little boy. And is this what you wantedto live in a house that is hauntedby the ghost of you and