well you walked into the party
like you were walking onto a yacht
your hat strategically dipped beneath one eye
your scarf it was apricot
you had one eye on the mirror and
you watched yourself a lot
and all the boys dreamed that they’d be your partner
they’d be your partner
yeah

well you had me several years ago
when i was still quite naive
and you said that we made such a pretty pair
and that you would never leave
but you gave away the things you loved
and one of them was me
i had some dreams
they were clouds in my coffee
clouds in my coffee
yeah

well i heard that you went of to saratoga
and your horse naturally won
and then you chartered a leer jet to nova scotia
to see the total eclipse of the sun
yeah you’re always where you should be and
when you’re not you’re with some underworld spy
or your best friend’s boyfriend
your best friend’s boyfriend
yeah

there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I’m not going
to let anybody see
you.

there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he’s
in there.

there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?

there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody’s asleep.
I say, I know that you’re there,
so don’t be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he’s singing a little
in there, I haven’t quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it’s nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don’t
weep, do
you?

–Charles Bukowski

While I’m at this funeral
You’re in New York
I’ve been dividing my grieving
You’re sleeping with a mutual friend

I dreamed that I kissed your mouth
And you thought about me
Over Christmas
Oh, you might know who I am
But I know who you are
Your heart is in your art
And mine’s in New York

I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve
You’re sleeping with a mutual friend
And I want to be with you again
And again
And again
I’ve thought about you a lot lately
So flash me your metal smile

I’m thinking about you
You’re thinking about
New York
Though to you your friend was hurt
To him I owe him money
Will you pay back the thirty dollars
That he thinks I owe him?
But I don’t owe him anything

If you had a funeral
I’d be there with bells on
La la la la la…

If I had a funeral
Would you even care?
Would you wear your silver dress?
Would you actually wear lipstick?
Would you lie upon my grave?
And be there with bells on
So you could ring me from this life?
From this life
From this life
So you could ring me from this life

Know a man, his face seems pulled and tense
Like he’s riding on a motorbike in the strongest winds
So I approach with tact, suggest that he should relax
But he’s always moving much too fast
Said he’ll see me on the flipside
On this trip he’s taken for a ride
He’s been taking too much on …
There he goes with his perfectly unkept clothes
There he goes…

He’s yet to come back, but I see his picture
Doesn’t look the same up on the rack
We go way back

I wonder about his insides
Its like his thoughts are too big for his size
He’s been taken, where, I dont know?
Off he goes with his perfectly unkept clothes
And there he goes…

And now I rub my eyes, for he has returned!
Seems my preconceptions are what should have been burned
For he still smiles, and he’s still strong
Nothings changed, but the surrounding bullshit
That has grown

And now he’s home, and were laughing like we always did
My same old, same old friend
Until a quarter-to-ten

I saw the strain creep in
He seemed distracted and I know just what is gonna happen next
Before his first step, he’s off again

I once knew a pair that used to fit very tight
But now a man standing tall in the wake of this night
His eyes are watering in anger at the thought of her spite
The scene of adultery sets the stage for his plight

On an innocent trip how can one really so much
Show belief in a soul, in a beauty, or in a touch
It’s like a three legged dog in search of a crutch
Dissecting in past all the motives of such

She once loved this person, a trial out of sight
Disclosing of the present situation, if felt right
Two winters and summers passed over like a sound
And now the two of them are lost in a screaming battle ground

With support all around him
Like a fence or a drink
He realizes in sadness
That now he must begin to think
To filter his energy upon losses in vain
She’ll think of the restful, the peaceful or the gain

His sister’s a friend
She’s like a relative to both
Obliged through her brother under silouhetted oath
But she’s there for the two with her bias’ undone
And she’ll help see it through under moonlight or sun

But today they’ve still yet to look each other in the eye
And in a second, he manages to dip
To the other side
Up to the people of the sky

And now he’ll never die

Don’t even think about reachin’ me
I won’t be home
Don’t even think about stoppin’ by
Don’t think of me at all
I did, what I had to do
If there was a reason, it was you…

Don’t even think about gettin’ inside
Voices in my head, voices
I got scratches, all over my arms
One for each day, since I fell apart
I did, what I had to do
If there was a reason, it was you…

Footsteps in the hall, it was you, you
Pictures on my chest, it was you
It was you…

I did, what I had to do
And if there was a reason
Oh, there wasn’t no reason, no
And if, there’s something you’d like to do
Just let me continue, to blame you

Footsteps in the hall, it was you, you
Pictures on my chest, it was you, you

‘Tis a sad day for everyone
Dopey gave up
His doomed ship apocalypse
Absorbed in his hand
Of 20,000 rivers of oil slicks and blood
And infinitely gnawing
Fingers to the bone

Please don’t go
Let’s go down below
Re-think things

I’ve got a broken heart
Passion and all the rest
Unfortunately so
I do my best
Pretty nice by your account
Give it to me anyway
Orville’s fucking nightmare
The dead career update

To taking us back to the memory:
The cyclops swallowing passwords
His prop-eye seeking a last verse
(but there won’t be one)