| We leave the party at two or three
|
| You hitch a lift in my Cabriolet
|
| And though it’s misty I’m just too tired or too lazy to close the soft top
|
| And I don’t stop you when you curl your body, cold in your little black mini
|
| And hold against me
|
| All night I’ve been flirting with everyone except you
|
| How you explain my failure to find you as attractive as everyone else seems to
|
| I just don t know
|
| But there’s wind in our hair and drink in our systems
|
| Breaking the ordinary inhibitions
|
| And on the cassette some Louisiana Creole music
|
| And you decide you want a cigarette
|
| And though it only takes a second to demonstrate the gadget in the dash
|
| I miss the black and white chevrons of the steep bend warning
|
| And there’s the sound of something smashing
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| Then nothing beneath the tyres of the Cabriolet…
|
| In the sudden shock of silence, with the morning star above you
|
| Lying bizarre in the wreck of my car. |
| .
|
| Maybe I’m drunk or hallucinating
|
| Maybe this isn’t happening
|
| Maybe you aren’t lying there with tears in your little party dress
|
| At the waist and the breast
|
| Because in real life I was never this aroused by you
|
| I was never this impressed
|
| Your face unharmed, unstained but drained pale
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| Is suddenly more strange and beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen or ever will
|
| Bathed in the light of the morning star I see someone
|
| I never took the trouble to know, someone
|
| I only now begin to feel I could love or make love to
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| I’m moved and aroused to see you in this strange new way
|
| In the starlight filtering through the myriad fragments
|
| Of the freshly shattered windscreen of the Cabriolet
|
| In the sudden shock of silence, with the morning star above you
|
| Lying bizarre in the wreck of my car
|
| …I love you |