| I’m writing this to say goodbye |
| To what you never should reply |
| That all of the Lords and Demons that you leave |
| I stand entirely alone |
| That is to say your loving me |
| Would be our only crime |
| And isn’t it a pity |
| You can see all her beauty clearly |
| In the midst of some grey city |
| In the midst of all this love |
| Many men have loved the bells |
| You fastened to the rain |
| And everyone who wanted you |
| Found what she would always want again |
| And I’d have been the dust for you |
| And I’d have been the grass for you |
| But you tell me with your beauty |
| You can see her duty clearly |
| In the midst of New-York-City |
| In the midst of all my love |
| Your body like a searchlight |
| In the prison of my need |
| Oh I would share your loneliness |
| And I demand your greed |
| And everything depends upon |
| How near you sleep to me |
| And isn’t it a pity |
| You can see all her duty clearly |
| In the midst of New-York-City |
| In the midst of all our love. |
| I will be writing this |
| When you are so very young again |
| That the forests that you burned away |
| And then sailed away are truly truly gone |
| I will be waiting where a starfish is your head |
| And the jewels for your shoulders |
| Fall through the walls of sand |
| Fall through the walls of sand. |