There's 52 ways to murder anyone
One and two are the same,
And they both work as well
I'm coming clean for Amy
Julie doesn't scream as well
And the cops won't listen all night
And so maybe I'll be over
Just as soon as I fill them all in
And I can remember when I saw her last
We were running all around and having a blast
But the back seat of the drive-in
Is so lonely without you
I know when your home
I was thinking about you
There was something I forgot to say
I was crying on saturday night
I was out cruising without you
They were playing our song
Crying on saturday night
As the moon becomes the night time
You go viciously, quietly, away
I'm sitting in the bedroom
Where we used to sit and smoke cigarettes
Now I'm watching, watching you die
I can remember when I saw her last
We were running all around and having a blast
But the back seat of the drive-in
Is so lonely without you
I know when your home
I was thinking about you
There was something I forgot to say
I was crying on saturday night
I was out cruising without you
They were playing our song
Crying on saturday night
Crying on saturday night
Crying on saturday night(Hammill)
Slow motion in the quiet of the room;
so potent is the smell of her perfume
that you think she's eternal,
that you think she is everything...
but no-one knows what she is.
Repentance for all you should have said;
her entrance seems to raise you from the dead
and you think she's really with you,
and you think that she'll always stay,
always ready to forgive you,
always ready to grant you her mercy
but in her own way.
When she comes, she'll be a stranger;
struck dumb, you'll try to protest
as the drum beats out the danger...
too late, you should have noticed
that the lady with the skin so white,
like something out of Blake or Burne-Jones
always blocked out the light
and shadowed all you owned.
Still you think she's forever,
yesterday and tomorrow...
but no-one knows where she is.
Still you swear that you can win her
and your prayer is that she'll want you;
aware - once a saint, now you're a sinner
and your sins are going to haunt you
when the lady with her skin so white
like something out of Edgar Allan Poe
holds your hand so very tight
and you hope that she'll never let go.
Easy targets, easy crosswords, easy life:
these key margins leave you balanced on the knife,
bleeding darkly.
In the end it all comes down to sleazy bargains.
That hidden key - you tried so hard to find it,
all you can conceive is the effort to be worthy;
even now you need to be reminded
that La Belle Dame is without mercy.
The lady with her skin so white -
you never did quite catch her name -
now she holds you in the night
and she'll never let go again,
she'll never let go again.