| Ain’t it just like the night to play tricks when you’re tryin' to be so quiet?
|
| We sit here stranded, though we’re all doin' our best to deny it
|
| And Louise holds a handful of rain, temptin' you to defy it
|
| Lights flicker from the opposite loft
|
| In this room the heat pipes just cough
|
| The country music station plays soft
|
| But there’s nothing, really nothing to turn off
|
| Just Louise and her lover so entwined
|
| And these visions of Johanna that conquer my mind
|
| In the empty lot where the ladies play blindman’s bluff with the key chain
|
| And the all-night girls they whisper of escapades out on the «D"train
|
| We can hear the night watchman click his flashlight
|
| Ask himself if it’s him or them that’s really insane
|
| Louise, she’s all right, she’s just near
|
| She’s delicate and seems like the mirror
|
| But she just makes it all too concise and too clear
|
| That Johanna’s not here
|
| The ghost of 'lectricity howls in the bones of her face
|
| Where these visions of Johanna have now taken my place
|
| Now, little boy lost, he takes himself so seriously
|
| He brags of his misery, he likes to live dangerously
|
| And when bringing her name up
|
| He speaks of a farewell kiss to me
|
| He’s sure got a lotta gall to be so useless and all
|
| Muttering small talk at the wall while I’m in the hall
|
| How can I explain?
|
| Oh, it’s so hard to get on
|
| And these visions of Johanna, they kept me up past the dawn
|
| Inside the museums, Infinity goes up on trial
|
| Voices echo this is what salvation must be like after a while
|
| But Mona Lisa musta had the highway blues
|
| You can tell by the way she smiles
|
| See the primitive wallflower freeze
|
| When the jelly-faced women all sneeze
|
| Hear the one with the mustache say, «Jeeze
|
| I can’t find my knees»
|
| Oh, jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule
|
| But these visions of Johanna, they make it all seem so cruel
|
| The peddler now speaks to the countess who’s pretending to care for him
|
| Sayin', «Name me someone that’s not a parasite and I’ll go out and say a prayer
|
| for him»
|
| But like Louise always says
|
| «Ya can’t look at much, can ya man?»
|
| As she, herself, prepares for him
|
| And Madonna, she still has not showed
|
| We see this empty cage now corrode
|
| Where her cape of the stage once had flowed
|
| The fiddler, he now steps to the road
|
| He writes ev’rything’s been returned which was owed
|
| On the back of the fish truck that loads
|
| While my conscience explodes
|
| The harmonicas play the skeleton keys and the rain
|
| And these visions of Johanna are now all that remain |