Out of the fire like Catholic saints Comes Scarlett and her deep complaint Mimicking tenderness she sees In sentimental movies A celluloid rider comes
Every picture has its shadows And it has some source of light Blindness, blindness and sight The perils of benefactors The blessings of parasites Blindness
Down in the cellar in the Boho zone I went looking for some sweet inspiration, oh well Just another hard-time band With Negro affectations I was a hopeful
her in a ranch house on a hill She could see the valley barbecues From her window sill See the blue pools in the squinting sun Hear the hissing of summer lawns
Rousseau walks on trumpet paths Safaris to the heart of all that jazz Through I bars and girders-through wires and pipes The mathematic circuits of the
Out on some borderline Some mark of inbetween I lay down golden-in time And woke up vanishing Sweet bird you are Briefer than a falling star All these