Venus De Milo Couldn't Spare A Dime For Another Ten Minutes On The Parking Meter

The crowd waits to see what he'll do
Watches him exposed, nothing but bare
Like a butterfly stuck and pinned up there
A wonderful example of "gone to pot"
Few love him, some hate him
Most don't care; quite a lot
But summertime leaves all the leaves in the trees
Strangers with knives hold hugs for you and me
And it's hard to believe inspiration can lie
And it's easy to believe that I don't often try
Till suffocation makes me desperate, and onions make me cry
I smile, as I look you in the eye
And gesture at the dance floor, the fiddle starts away
Gone for a moonlight trip, a wet-grass slip
And we'll never be exactly the same as we were five seconds ago
Gramophone blues, it's all old news
And the ice in the window crawls into the inside
Crawls like death in cold-ish form
"Fill out our forms, and we'll send you to die
It's what we do, though we don't know why"
Sweet baby dream, growing up fast
Time in bed never lasts
You can't dream your way to infinity, only to tomorrow
You're the ice-cube in my glass
I'm the windows in your past

(I'm in your past, as time goes by
It's what I do, though I don't know why)