May I Call You Beatrice Lyrics

May I Call You Beatrice lyrics

Just a little thought in the head of the one With the sunburnt cheeks and the
eyes to the ground Making earwaxed tongue-tied gutter sounds Thinking of the
lost rib, dialing the indelible Thinking the unthinkable-no one's home And the
eyes say I don't believe we've met I don't believe you've had the privilege I
don't believe we've met When the wind blows cold And the eyes of the child grow
old When the erratic conga rises and falls Above the faithful metronome You can
take me back to the gravestone See her strain from the weight of the globe
Spinning around his assumptions-barefoot and tight-lipped He in his favourite
chair blowing his world around First she's Beatrice, then she's a pumpkin Then
she's a faded leaf in a book on his pantry shelf The head sees the hand play
with the ring in the pocket And the head knows the hand knows the ring is as
round As the tear-soaked shoulder in a room in another town The ring is getting
heavy and so is the crown Which she drags to the chair feebly to keep the
swelling down When the bird in the bush is worth two in the hand And the empty
cage holds the empty man The bird keeps flying from the Orgoglian rising And
the phone keeps ringing and the phone keeps ringing And the ring keeps slipping
and the phone And the phone keeps on ringing And he's thinking about the one who
got away