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I saw you in the film for just two seconds |
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A documentary set in heaven |
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Where the hipsters roll like children |
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And the writers roll like dogs |
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On rugs in beds and on stages |
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And the singers hide behind the camera |
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I saw you in the film where the children write on glass |
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The sun came in like a pack of orange spaniels |
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Through the window over the ledge |
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Under the curtain on their bellies creeping and bending |
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Balls of string coiled like springs hang down from the cymbal stands |
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And in your hands I sleep just like a drummer |
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I wake up with the thunder of your type-writer every night |
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Well every day a prayer goes on its knees |
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I will quit the white the wine and the weed |
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Falls to its belly and crawls towards New York |
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I saw you in the film for just two seconds |
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On a subway car lifting like a question |
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From Earth to the street to the bridge in the east |
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Where the green man wears a hat |
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The sun came in like a pack of orange spaniels |
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Through the window over the ledge |
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Under the curtain on their bellies creeping and bending |
|
Balls of string coiled like springs hang down from the cymbal stands |
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And in your hands I sleep just like a drummer |
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I wake up with the thunder / Just like a drummer |
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Of your type-writer / Wake up with the thunder |
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Just Like a drummer / Of your type-writer |
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(x5) |
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Just Like a drummer... / Just Like a drummer |
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...every night. |
