Now and then I think of you,
That soft smile you left me with.
Now and then, I wish I could
Say that it's okay, I understand,
That if you have to go,
Believe me that nobody
Will understand
The way that I can.

I knew I should beware of you,
This illusory complex that I wanted to be you.
And, still, when you knocked upon my door,
I answered your call.
But sunny days will always set, my dear,
I just didn’t know that
You’d make always come so soon.
Blame it on that sunny afternoon,
But I did, and maybe still do…
I really used to believe in you.

But it seems like this forgiveness
Is about faith, and knowledge,
And knowing when you’re too far behind,
And when to let go,
And how to make the best of a cliff
That may take a decade to climb.
Yes, I think it’s about
Forgiveness,
And faith,
And you and me,
And how to be free,
And cutting you off
Like a hundred-year-old tree.

Now and then, you’re on my mind;
The things you said
Were only my religion, my life,
But now and then I remember:
That it’s not about who you let your guard down to,
But why you became so vulnerable in the first place.
All the same, despite my campaign,
Some things just remain
Burned into your memory.
Like two words the same but worlds apart-
Your memory is a homonym of my very own heart.
But it’s okay, I understand,
My will is not your will, just
Rest assured that I will always
Love you like nobody will.

Now and then, I feel like a fool.
These letters and boxes of what once was
Seem so dark and deceiving,
And now and then I wonder how long
It would take to make them full again.
But it’s okay, I understand.
There’s no use in pretending
That this grey cloud’s not looming;
Maybe someday it won’t rain.
But, now and then,
I’ve got to pay,
Because you’re gone,
And that’s the way it will stay.

Baby, I know
The worst mistake I ever made
Was to put it in 2nd, and walk away.
I didn’t fight that mountain.
And still, to make it easier,
Into that something good…
I wish I heard that voice,
Telling me I should.
What good would it do?
Tell me,
What has happened to you?

You're swearing all the time,
This haystack, these needles,
They’re always getting taller,
But,
Forgive me…
I notice your smile still hasn’t faltered.
Go ahead, you feel fine, but…
Like some pawned-off ring,
Like some choir unable to sing,
Like some shoe with too many miles,
Like some child without a smile,
Like some worn-out version
Of my favorite song,
That shine in your eyes
Is dead and gone.
There’s no more room for me
Left in those baby-blues…
Tell me,
What has happened to you?

A well runs over,
A well runs dry.
A needle in a haystack,
A needle in an eye.
Where is security?
The window, the pane,
The lock, the key?
The grass is ***** and weak,
With nothing coming soon,
No sign of something good.
I’d like to make it easier-
Tell me,
Do you think I should?
I’m helpless, yes,
I wish you were helpless, too-
Tell me,
What has happened to you?

And even if the stars aligned,
I’d still be searching ‘til the end of time.
Too tired, true,
But what else should I do?
Tell me,
What has happened to you?

So, one more thing, I think,
Before I cut you down to size,
And tell you goodbye:
I’d give you everything I own,
For you to just leave me alone.
Forget our summer,
Forget our past,
And for goodness sake,
And for the sake of God,
Take me off this crooked line
That I know you drew.
Your memory,
It sticks like glue…
But tell me nothing-
I don’t want to know
What has happened to you.

I’d like to talk.
And if I could,
I’d say:
“See that path?
It’s flowers sprinkled
A foot apart,
Far as the eye can see?”
And,
“Would you take a walk with me?”
There’s dirt,
And rocks,
And a big, red sky-
“What is it about today
That makes me feel alive?”
The air is hot and thick,
My calico skirt blows,
Your flat-bottomed soles crunch,
As you pick the dusty flowers.

I’d like to talk.
And if I could,
I’d say:
“See that road,
It’s broken television sets,
Couches, and Maytag machines
Far as the eye can see?”
And,
“Remember how things used to be?”
It’s soft,
The image fading to white,
But I’m wasting bated breath-
“You never would have survived.”
The air, still hot, still thick,
Is dying, it’s sick.

Well, I’d like to talk.
And if I could,
I’d say:
“See that highway?
Gone is the humid day.
See that highway?
Gone is the hundred-degree breeze.
See that highway?
Gone is the locusts' song,
But-
Where have all the flowers gone?"

The Chicago Tribune called it,
“The Affair of the Decade!”
Everyone’s mothers called it,
“Another tragic heartbreak”.
When the coroner wiped his hands,
He predicted a sensation,
And so did every uniformed man
Sitting in the po-lice station.

In a cold Illinois motel,
A man in a suit smiles.
He was twenty years in,
A detective for the city.
Oh, that smile he’ll smile,
But gone is his laughter,
Along with his pity,
For tonight, tonight,
He would shoot up the city.

Regina combed her blonde hair,
And took the lift down to the lobby.
The pale-skinned princess,
That woman’s body…
How many fell for her
Remains quite a mystery.
We watch,
Ladies and gentlemen,
We watch,
As her dress moves in the breeze.
Like a dandelion in the dark,
She rides the carriage
Into the park.

The detective stood alone,
A cut-out cornerstone.
He was no longer nervous,
He looked like a statue,
And the ******-white snow
Fell quietly to his shoes.
In the moonlight, she came.
He spoke her name.
In the moonlight, she walked.
But when he spoke, she stopped.

“Regina, Regina,
Please reconsider.
Without you,
The nighttime is darker,
The cold air much thinner.
Without you,
The wind becomes sour,
The daylight so bitter.
Regina, Regina,
It’s just a few days…
Say yes,
And in the morning,
We’ll be far from this place!”

But that Regina, Regina,
She let him down easy:
“Your job is to spy,
To live in the quiet.
You’re a prowler,
You were born to sneak,
And I will proceed,
But do not follow me.”
And we watch,
Ladies and gentlemen,
We watch,
As she turns on a dime,
Leaving our detective behind.
A poor, tortured soul,
He smiles that smile,
And in an act of desperation,
Pulls out his frosted .45.
For Regina,
He aimed, and
For Regina,
He fired.

In the heart of Chicago,
Be it snowfall or in heat,
No one can be spared
When a man is in defeat.
T’will be the foggy air,
The hot metal, and
The echo of the gun
That will help us remember
The night that we watched,
Ladies and gentlemen,
We watched…
We watched...
The snow, and how
It lost its innocence that night.
And poor Regina, and how
Her yellow dress blended into the sight.
The detective, and how
He would step into the street,
Killing everyone he’d meet.
Twenty men dead,
Now the asphalt is sticky,
And the blood spilled is gritty-
For tonight, tonight,
The detective shot up the city.

The coroner wiped his hands,
And predicted a sensation,
And so did every uniformed man
Sitting in the po-lice station.

I saw your face in a paper sky,
Saw how good it looked in black-and-white.
The light in your eyes is
One of those pre-lit things-
That is, to say,
That when you wink,
The sky goes gray.

Heart Ripper, you're a decorative lover,
One red-hot summer.
Heart Ripper, what a gorgeous shame.
Love is love, under any given name,
But after a hit, it's forever lame.

You're the classic American case
Of mud inside a jar,
You air-brushed lonely-heart.
Perfect imperfection,
A photograph in a frame,
You're smiling, but dustless.
Dustless, and perfect.

Heart Ripper, you've gained a red list,
And another little lover wrapped up in your fist.
Heart Ripper, she's on my side,
If I can't give it back to you,
She will in good time.

Just like some music in the canal,
You remind me of a favorite song.
But this final number's old,
Over-played, over-sold.
Skipping in that broken-record fashion,
Really,
I mean to say,
That this is a tune from the past,
That's closing fast.

Heart Ripper, you're a powerhouse lover,
The blanket superior.
Like a windbreaker in December,
You're there, but not quite enough.
Heart Ripper, never fixing what you've torn;
The needle, the thread, the sewing hand--
Take this as a tune of pity,
As a brand new set of plans.

Hero, hero,
Get it while it lasts.
You're invincible now,
A regular rough horse from the city.
Go home,
And just for good measure,
Repent, before you receive
More than just a tune of pity.

So smile for the camera,
Leave your compassion on the hook in the hall.
Sit down, catch the call,
Brush my biggest fear right off your lap,
Over your shoulder,
Pretend not to notice it fall.
It’s just another day
In some fool’s paradise,
A paradise lost, but-
Brother, my brother,
In the end,
The very, very end,
How much will this cost?

A wolf in a wolf’s own expensive suit
Can go out on the town,
And he’ll take it on down.
And he’ll prowl through the
Half-lit neighborhoods
In which the other half sleeps:
On Newspaper clippings
In a cardboard box,
On a gusty day on a city block,
Spotted, once and again,
Through melted landscapes,
Through Mother’s old stained and
Pink-and-Spotted drapes…
There’s shallow eyes with beat-down spark,
In each and every lined and dusty face,
Whose strength is gone without a trace.
But, there remains
A yellow, crooked grin…
Some slight reminder of happiness,
But such happiness
Is a disgusting, foul-smelling sin.
He’ll check his hat, his jet-black coat,
His sympathy, at the door,
And he’ll block that door,
As it all comes to a close,
And your life is no more.
Your fate is held in the palm of some
Cold, undeserving, and ***** hand,
A beast of a man.
And then,
A wolf on the town
Is no different than
A snarling and rabid
Dog in the pound.

Suddenly, your tongue is no longer tired.
Suddenly, this precious world is on a tether,
And it’s slowly on fire.
The wolf, he tosses it around, but-
Brother, my brother,
In the end,
In the very, very end,
When can I play?
You’re uncomfortably silent,
You dare not say.
But we’re about to be through,
Brother, my brother,
For it’s getting hard to defend you,
You awful,
Grotesque,
Stereotype, you.
Someday, even your own kind
Won’t bother with you.
So beware, bully,
You are out of your place.
This is no tether ball,
No half-eaten game;
It’s nothing but a covered case.
It’s a ******* arms race.

You are no better
Than us, or the stains on
Our blistered, aching feet.
Your face is no more loving
Than the blood
Soaking the foreign, sandy streets.
So forget it all,
Run away, lest it turn against you,
And never look back.
Don’t dare for a round two.
Consider us your children,
Coming of age, and
Putting a price on your back,
For you are no better
Than that
God-forsaken Father
Who leaves,
And never comes back.

A pair of blue jeans, baby,
A cut-up magazine.
Quotes in the air,
Quotes on the fridge,
Quotes on our bodies,
Tattooed across our ribs.

The meaning has changed,
Yet the words are the same.
I know, it’s not quite as clear,
But the feeling’s still here.
You know, art does that, sometimes-
Have you ever seen the Mona Lisa?
She’ll laugh
Now and then,
She’ll widen her elusive grin,
But don’t blink, boy,
‘Cause now she’s only smiling again.

A hundred pairs of socks, baby,
Some bath tub with a ring.
Someone is arriving,
Someone is even smiling,
And here comes someone with
Bible verses on their back,
And…
By God, they’re thriving.

The needle has skipped,
Yet the words echo on.
I know I’m older than all the things I’m surrounded by,
Than a dog or two, and a chewed pair of shoes.
This memory of a life is like
Seeing my house burned down,
With all my possessions
Littering the ground.

A wall full of photos, baby,
A brand new television, for you but not for me.
These days have finally matured,
These days have decided to let us go.
These days are down the road, without
So much as a ‘goodbye’,
Or a passing glance
And you pass them on the road.

But art, it does that, sometimes.
In fact, baby,
Have you ever seen Van Gogh’s sunflowers,
With their heads hung down in defeat?
One would think they died in the summer heat,
But it was love that did them in-
Some protective barrier that failed them again.
It happens, sometimes;
I’ll laugh now and then,
Widen my elusive grin,
But soft, soft as I am,
I can’t turn around,
And allow this to happen again.
I’ll give you my blue jeans
And things;
Take my quotes,
The socks, my
Magazines.
For now that the past has disappeared,
The future is growing clear.
In March, I’ll be born again,
Like every sunflower who deserves
To be treated like a princess becoming a queen,
I’ll be…I’ll be.
And then, baby,
It’ll be…It’ll be
Like we never passed each other in the hall,
Five years ago,
Before I was short and you were tall,
It’ll be…It’ll be
Like you never even
Knew me at all.