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.
