We imagined ourselves As cathedral bells Ringing out through the moribund streets Like shrill courtesans Making fanciful plans That we whispered while drifting to sleep
And I told you I'd stay In every possible way Though we both knew that that wasn't true You said "You would understand If it was something so grand As a mirrored reflection of you"
And New York in October Was never so sober As the beating on the windows in March Trying so hard in vain To stay out of the rain Falling off our cathedral arch
You were (?) You were (?) You were Miss Cleopatra in heels And anonymously You were April to me Throwing rocks just to see how it feels
But those lines in your eyes And that platinum crown And that gaudy red rouge on your cheeks You must look so sublime With some Neophyte charm But you look like a common whore to me
But I liked you the best In your plain simple mess Drinking wine from a pink, plastic cup While the radio played Some soft serenade And we noticed the sun coming up
And the blue in your eyes Looked like ice when you cried And you always felt so cold when we touched Happy birthday to you I sure hope it's not true Even though I don't miss you that much