Song Sung Blue
Well I remember every little thing
as if it happened only yesterday
Parking by the lake and there was not another car in sight
And I never had a girl
Looking any better than you did
Remembering the first time, your pinstripe suit and Oxford knot, Dr Martens,
five foot two, and Paradise by the Dashboard Light, bellowed over tables stained
with too much wine at daft o’clock.
And if one day I should become
A singer with a Spanish bum
Who sings for women of great virtue
You loved that song, would whirl around the kitchen in your second-skin corset,
Rioja fangs and lipstick,
and on that trip to Oxford, when you told me it was over to the tune of Ne Me Quitte Pas,
I was sad but your friendship was enough, and I was glad to have the privilege
of kissing you when we were young and beautiful.
And you want to travel with her, and you want to travel blind
And you know that she will trust you
For you’ve touched her perfect body with your mind
I promised not to cry when we toasted you at Christmas
with berries bathed in brandy,
berries that we’d picked the day we heard about your passing,
when we sang of tea and oranges, and burning violins
Dance me through the panic till I’m gathered safely in.
And the sun pours down like honey on our lady of the harbour
And she shows you where to look among the garbage and the flowers
We only just made it to the service.
Got lost, and on that roundabout, found ourselves behind a hearse,
and there you were, in my head, laughing from the back,
singing Jackie, making magic in the chapel.
If I could be for only an hour
If I could be for an hour every day
If I could be for just one little hour
Cute cute, in a stupid ass way