Come with me now into a piece of velvet And a plastic painter's daring dance of death We'll journey very far into the surface Those not used to diving hold your breath
The lady of my dreams paints scars of velvet On the mirror are the words she chose to speak And there the heavy hands that hang suspended Wrote: The Easter undertaker's laughter breaks
Painter, she cried, it's mourning She stared like a saint undone Painter, she cried, it's morning And we cannot find the sun
I offered her my cap and tiny shovel Saying, surely this will hide you from the sun I obtained it from a banker in depression He was a memory from 1931
She butchers up her meat in careful quarters Knowing the prize at stake is very high And she builds a worn cliché into climax Knowing she will barely get by
Lady, return my dream It wasn't free, it's not for sale Lady, return my dream And let me go on with the telling of my tale
Her gentle voice cried quietly to thank me It's nothing, the hollow answer said I let her ride the railroad line to Nowhere And left the lost survivor on her bed
Lady, return my dream It wasn't free, it held my life The portrait ends in a scream Two hearts held together with a knifeTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
