When you were younger, you had nightmares You had scissor-pain and phantom limbs And things that kept you nervous Through that twelve-year interim
When you fell crossing that street South of Houston, old Manhattan land Those nightmares fell from building-tops And took you by the hand
And you were brought into those rooms With sliding curtains, shining children's heads And one of them, that boy Was not as lucky as you then
But he returns to you at night Just when you think you might have fallen asleep His face is up against yours And you're too terrified to speak
Oh, Sylvia Oh, Sylvia You may think that I'm not listening But I am, goddamn, I am
I won't pretend I understand Because I can't, and know I never will But something makes you sting And something makes you want to kill
It made you crawl under that house And stick your head under the stove It's all connected In those complicated nightmares that you wove
Oh, Sylvia Oh, Sylvia You may think that I'm not listening But I am, goddamn, I amTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
