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The stories of the street are mine,the Spanish voices laugh.
The Cadillacs go creeping now through the night and the poison gas,
I met a woman long ago
her hair the black that black can go,
Are you a teacher of the heart?
Soft she answered no....
A bunch of lonesome and very quarrelsome heroes
were smoking out along the open road;
the night was very dark and thick...
When they poured across the border
I was cautioned to surrender,
this I could not do;
I took my gun and vanished.
I finally broke into the prison,
I found my place in the chain.
Even damnation is poisoned with rainbows,
all the...
I came upon a butcher,
he was slaughtering a lamb,
I accused him there
with his tortured lamb.
He said,...
The rain falls down on last year's man,
that's a Jew's harp on the table,
that's a crayon in his hand....
Four o'clock in the afternoon
and I didn't feel like very much.
I said to myself, \"Where are you golden boy,
where...
Field Commander Cohen, he was our most important spy.
Wounded in the line of duty,
parachuting acid into diplomatic cocktail...
I tried to leave you, I don't deny
I closed the book on us, at least a hundred times.
I'd wake up every morning by your side....
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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 rides
and other forms of boredom advertised as poetry.
I know you need your sleep now,
I know your life's been hard.
But many men are falling,
where you promised to stand guard.
I never asked but I heard you cast your lot along with the poor.
But then I overheard your prayer,
that you be this and nothing more
than just some grateful faithful woman's favourite singing millionaire,
the patron Saint of envy and the grocer of despair,
working for the Yankee Dollar.
I know you need your sleep now ...
Ah, lover come and lie with me, if my lover is who you are,
and be your sweetest self awhile until I ask for more, my child.
Then let the other selves be wrong, yeah, let them manifest and come
till every taste is on the tongue,
till love is pierced and love is hung,
and every kind of freedom done, then oh,
oh my love, oh my love, oh my love,
oh my love, oh my love, oh my love.
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