I was looking for a rhyme for the New York Times When I sensed I was not alone She said "do you know how to spell 'audaciously'?" I could tell I was in love And so I forced a smile contrary to my style And she looked into my eyes She said "do you want to go heaven, Or would you rather not be saved? Here comes my train
I'm on my way, will you not see? I don't need your sympathy I won't read your poetry, oh sweetness please
So she took me back to her basement flat Which was down on Charlotte Street Though it was never my intention We were not intense, not least because--
"Well. if you must just take, then I'm a piece of cake" That is what she said to me And so I gave myself to her charity Well at least that's how it seemed Here comes my train
I'm on my way, what got into me? I don't need your sympathy I won't read your poetry, oh bittersweets
I was looking for a rhyme for the New York Times when I was distracted Yes, those were precious times together that we wasted Now Im working hard for my union card I must be leaving Charlotte Street Though it was never my intention to stay so long So long