These words they come from the heart, from the heart that beats in you
They are merely words of art, not the whole f**ing truth
I will be a loving devotee, and you can be the hungry beast I feed
A man like me if an infidel, would much prefer your sister…
Than spend his time a fraternising with another mister
What luck to have struck upon some basic beauty
It is reprehensible to behold, And downright unholy
What struck me as beauty you now defend with your license
This is and unreachable peach, I don't uphold a pretence
What are days and weeks and months and years, if not the counts of ageing?
So while the crowds are gone and the floor is clear, let's dance while to our graves we're racing
With my son and my wife, there is a life yet to have been
For you to take it would be obscene