Midnight Garden
In the tent of powder and lace
Vultures pick at a carcass that feeds by hand
Longing to decay
Waits to hear the sound
Of their wings slowly heave as they fly away
Some will stay for days
There's maps in her wrists and arms
And the dust lies like snow around the bed
Glowing white, a sculpture of bone
Or a jewel like a crumpled, distorted moon
Shivers in her mind
If she moves too near
It shatters so quickly, leaves nothing behind
The old lady sighs
Sometimes when she lifts her eyes
The room has filled with flowing sheets of silk
There's maps in her wrists and arms
And the morphine surges terror bread and bliss
In the tent of powder and lace
She can hear some violins, watches the strings
Threading through the room
Impress The Kid
SUMMERTIME IN VENICE
I dream of the summertime,
Of Venice and the summertime.
I see the cafes, the sunlit days with you, my love
The antique shop where we'd stop for a souvenir
The bridge, the boats below, the blue above.
I dream all the winter long
Of mandolins that played our song.
The dream is so real I almost feel your lips on mine.
And though I know we have to be an ocean apart,
There's Venice and you, and summertime, deep in my heart.
Un so-gno ro-man-ti-co,
Ve-ne-zia e il so-le splen-di-do!
Do-vun-que sa-ro, no li po-tro di-men
I dream of the summertime,
Of Venice and the summertime.
I see the cafes, the sunlit days with you, my love
The antique shop where we'd stop for a souvenir
The bridge, the boats below, the blue above.
I dream all the winter long
Of mandolins that played our song.
The dream is so real I almost feel your lips on mine.
And though I know we have to be an ocean apart,
There's Venice and you, and summertime, deep in my heart.
Un so-gno ro-man-ti-co,
Ve-ne-zia e il so-le splen-di-do!
Do-vun-que sa-ro, no li po-tro di-men