When I first saw your gallery, I liked the ones of ladies
Then you began to hang up me, you studied to portray me
In ice and greens and old blue jeans and naked in the roses
Then you got into funny scenes that all your work discloses
"Lady, don't love me now I am dead
I am a saint, turn down your bed
I have no heart," that's what you said
You said, "I can be cruel, but let me be gentle with you"
Somewhere in a magazine I found a page about you
I see that now it's Josephine who cannot be without you
I keep your house in fit repair, I dust the portraits daily
Your mail comes here from everywhere, the writing looks like ladies'
"Lady, please love me now, I am dead
I am a saint, turn down your bed
I have no heart," that's what you said
You said, "I can be cruel, but let me be gentle with you"
I gave you all my pretty years, then we began to weather
And I was left to winter here while you went west for pleasure
And now you're flying back this way like some lost homing pigeon
They've monitored your brain, you say, and changed you with religion
"Lady, please love me now I was dead
I am no saint, turn down your bed
Lady, have you no heart," that's what you said
Well, I can be cruel, but let me be gentle with you
When I first saw your gallery, I liked the ones of ladies
But now their faces follow me and all their eyes look shady
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