I conquered every feeiing that ever felt real to me and
knelt at the feet of statues looking for deliverance,

Blood on her wings but an angel flies in and sings to me,
I cling to the tin foil

In the tack room
satin and a whisper of whips.


I unclip from the apron and try to get a game on
But the statues refuse to okay my play.

and she walks like she's sinking
on the brink or is it me thinking it's her thinking it's me?

Montmartre
next stop Kama Sutra
all aboard
tickets please,
fasten your seat belt

It wasn't that at all
It just
felt like it.


But when you start to feel and cease to kneel it all becomes incredible,
I'm a thousand lira nearer to Pisa,
she's a lot closer to me.