#CanadianWriters
Give me back my broken night my mirrored room, my secret life it’s lonely here, there’s no one left to torture Give me absolute control
The birds they sang at the break of day Start again I heard them say Don’t dwell on what
1. You came to me this morning And you handled me like meat. You´d have to live alone to know How good that feels, how sweet. My mirror twin, my next of kin,
I loved you in the morning, our ki… your hair upon the pillow like a s… yes, many loved before us, I know… in city and in forest they smiled… but now it’s come to distances and…
It’s true that all the men you kne… who said they were through with de… Every time you gave them shelter I know that kind of man It’s hard to hold the hand of anyo…
I remember you well in the Chelse… you were talking so brave and so s… giving me head on the unmade bed, while the limousines wait in the s… Those were the reasons and that wa…
One by one, the guests arrive The guests are coming through The open-hearted many The broken-hearted few And no one knows where the night i…
Well my friends are gone and my ha… I ache in the places where I used… And I’m crazy for love but I’m no… I’m just paying my rent every day Oh in the Tower of Song
Suddenly the night has grown colde… The god of love preparing to depar… Alexandra hoisted on his shoulder, They slip between the sentries of… Upheld by the simplicities of plea…
The ponies run, the girls are youn… The odds are there to beat You win a while, and then it’s don… Your little winning streak And summoned now to deal
Ah we’re drinking and we’re dancin… and the band is really happening and the Johnny Walker wisdom runn… And my very sweet companion she’s the Angel of Compassion
Come over to the window, my little… I’d like to try to read your palm. I used to think I was some kind o… before I let you take me home. Now so long, Marianne, it’s time…
I’ve worked at my work I’ve slept at my sleep I’ve died at my death and now I can leave. Leave what is needed
Like a bird on the wire Like a drunk in a midnight choir I have tried in my way to be free Like a worm on a hook Like a knight from some old-fashio…
Out of the thousands who are known or want to be known… maybe one or two are genuine and the rest are fakes, hanging around the sacred precinct…