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LORENZO'S PARTING THOUGHTS |
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by Charles Carreon Life, the real dance of passion is happening today. No recess time declared, The fashion is to play and play and play. With the hated in the second show, And risk to self at the Intermezzo, Eating dainties in the opal glow.
It's a right wicked assembly, is it not? With the heirs and pretenders Pushing for a spot, With the ladies in waiting and the magistrates toying with their hair bobs and their delicates.
Listen, glisten, it's the price of admission, No cunning or guile is excessive. Feathers, flowers, idle hours, my darling You look so expressive. Drag out the regalia for a sweet saturnalia, and call in the freaks from the woods. Well one night in Sevilla, Ya' know it won't kill ya' Like a weekend in Granada could. That's good.
Now set down your knives, the meal's not served yet, And the more you wait, the more hungry you get, And pleasure deferred Is pleasure enhanced to the pitch of higher set, let's get Involved now ladies and gentlemen -- those waistcoats are confining And corsets still more yet, But the masks should stay in place Lest we get unconfused And pleasure be aborted Or anyone refuse. We'll rock now.
Do you get the meaning? Do you get the treat? Do you hear the fire squealing on your street? Do you hear the breaking of the garden gate? Do you hear their twisted voices singing songs of faith and hate? Those scum know how to rock.
At our pleasant little party The debutantes in line Hold out their crystal goblets for a sip of wine, Give up their delicate garments For the promised price Give up their tender bodies On a bed of ice. They're going to learn how to rock.
Now the iron-worker's asking A question of the priest Who's cleaning out his dinner From between his twisted teeth: "Did you ever hear the stories What they do in there? Do it to our children Well you know it's hardly fair. Do it with impunity Do it day and night. How can God abide it? You know that it's not right." And the priest says smiling cruelly "You're a very saintly man," And walking both together He takes him by the hand, says "Let's get the Devil by the old short hairs Hang him up to squirm With his hooves in the air, Convict that hairy bastard In the holy cross-hair sights, Eliminate the problem In one sweet, bloody night." That bastard surely can rock.
I found my flower in the pale moonlight Her shade of lipstick was absolutely right, Her powdered cheek was exquisitely fair, And while I stood there Wondering how to dare, She turned to me and blew a kiss through the air. Her curled hair rose like a coronet, Still more adorned her shoulders in ringlets, Soft breasts arched up with stays More lovely yet. I pledged my kingdom as our eyes first met. That girl could rock.
She was a prize worth killing for, And at her word I would do much more, Cheat, lie and steal, and poison too, When it's a matter of the blood, you do. Fifteen years later On my deathbed too soon, The shadows cruelly creep around the room, Those I have schemed to bring to benefit Have twice betrayed me and I feel regret. Those pale bodies on those beds of ice, Those bloody trinkets and my antiseptic knife, The scent of evil that has tracked me there, No message waiting after all these years. Oh gentle victims Who had been my loves, Can't speak a word of mercy in my name, I broke you all upon the wheel of passion And all your kindness Like your blood's been drained. If only I could turn the knife upon myself. Cut out this heart of cruelty. Expose it to the sun and let the life run down my arm. Save all of them from me and me from harm. If I could warn them I would be right back -- Dark-browed minions shake their heads, My tongue goes slack. Doors open wide for me that no one else can see. My turn to rock.
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