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Private Lives In Public Places
Radioontheshelf
Great piano piece with my freeform ode to a thin girl from the salons
I have taken good advantage of the times you called me lover
Wrapped myself inside the words and promised futures corresponding
And the way you taught me laughter broken promises thereafter
They remain as sad reminders of the girl from near perfection
Looking now from all directons I can see the lipstick on the wall
Scrawled by hands once sweet caressing now vindictive perfect spelling
Telling me the truths and reasons for the actions cruelly taken
And if I am not mistaken of the time when you broke my heart
Stainless steel that filled your kitchen Frachino Bambino perfect coffee
Lips once kissed now pressed to china biscuits bought in La Cure Gourmande
Served on plates owned by Grandparents a generation squandered
And you whispered more than anyone I’d cared for
As if talking was for poor men you made the past so difficult to end
On love and passion and how to capture then to bottle later savour
Offer up to men in droplets recorking before elation
Penetrated but never taken you wipe away all traces of the night
But I would never go the distance you were always too transcendant
Your beauty was your bank account my morals always were relaxed
At times I almost thought you were for real
On Sundays I will walk to see the Jardin Du Luxembourg
And if I can I will remove a flower from the brightest spot
And press it in a book from Shakespeares and leave it on your bedside chair
From where I will embark to China via some cheap hookers bedroom
I have few scruples fewer sad eyes for I know the past will curse
And you will post me drawings made of some park benchs memories
Taken to be beautiful but really just a fantasy
I hope we meet again in Paris other cities would be too grey
And you will wear the yellow dress that famous hands had touched and blessed
And I will wear a buttonhole from Pierre Banchereau
And we will dine on fresh air one more time
I have taken good advantage of the times you called me lover
Wrapped myself inside the words and promised futures corresponding
And the way you taught me laughter broken promises thereafter
They remain as sad reminders of the girl from near perfection
Looking now from all directons I can see the lipstick on the wall
Scrawled by hands once sweet caressing now vindictive perfect spelling
Telling me the truths and reasons for the actions cruelly taken
And if I am not mistaken of the time when you broke my heart
Stainless steel that filled your kitchen Frachino Bambino perfect coffee
Lips once kissed now pressed to china biscuits bought in La Cure Gourmande
Served on plates owned by Grandparents a generation squandered
And you whispered more than anyone I’d cared for
As if talking was for poor men you made the past so difficult to end
On love and passion and how to capture then to bottle later savour
Offer up to men in droplets recorking before elation
Penetrated but never taken you wipe away all traces of the night
But I would never go the distance you were always too transcendant
Your beauty was your bank account my morals always were relaxed
At times I almost thought you were for real
On Sundays I will walk to see the Jardin Du Luxembourg
And if I can I will remove a flower from the brightest spot
And press it in a book from Shakespeares and leave it on your bedside chair
From where I will embark to China via some cheap hookers bedroom
I have few scruples fewer sad eyes for I know the past will curse
And you will post me drawings made of some park benchs memories
Taken to be beautiful but really just a fantasy
I hope we meet again in Paris other cities would be too grey
And you will wear the yellow dress that famous hands had touched and blessed
And I will wear a buttonhole from Pierre Banchereau
And we will dine on fresh air one more time