She was so afraid
|
Since her mother, white with time,
|
Told her
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She was a failure
|
|
She was so ashamed
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Of everything she said
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And everything she did
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For her mother, white with time
|
|
Everything around her mother
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White with time
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And dirty
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Her mother was greedy with dirt
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Greedy
|
|
Then she heard choirs of angels
|
Singing choirs of angels
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Greedy angels
|
Spitting glory on her failure
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That stardust of failure
|
As if it was medicine that didn't work
|
Any way
|
Anyway
|
The windows
|
They were closed
|
And the midwives had locked their doors
|
They didn't understand
|
And after all, what was there to understand?
|
But the angels
|
Sheer choirs of angels
|
In a friendship
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No, more than a friendship
|
It was a marriage
|
A marriage made in the grave
|
|
In the shivering night
|
The searching of the river continued
|
That bullet of searchlight
|
That searchlight
|
found her so cockleshell and sure
|
Sick and tired of what she saw
|
But cockleshell and sure
|
|
Sure of what the world had offered a tired soul
|
From Istanbul to Madrid
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From Reykjavik, to Bonn
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To Leipzig, to Leningrad
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To Shanghai, Pnonm Penh
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All so that it would be a stronger world
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A strong, though loving, world
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To die in
|
|
-----------------
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Santies
|
John Cale |