Ornaments and flowers, Beaches and wine. I could give you my voice, But first give me your glamour, so divine. I could read out Ulysses to you, Speaking words which with I made myself, And lies with which we hurt ourselves. I could be you like an Ernest Hemingway novel. And write for you, In a sun-packed hotel. But I do not.
Hear me writer, i am a fold you know. You have seen many strangers, But they weren't kind to you. Fail me better, Another day another time. Laugh out louder, You shall be a happy man, In the limelight.