Thank you for this bitter knowledge, guardian angels who left me stranded: it was worth it, feeling abandoned. Makes one hardened but what has happened to love? You’ve got me writing lyrics on postcards, then in the evenings, looking at stars. But the brightest of the planets is Mars.
What has happened to love?
So I will opt for the big white Limo; vanity fairgrounds and rebel angels. You can’t be trusted with feathers so hollow. Your heaven’s inventions: steel-eyed vampires, of love. You see over me, I’ll never know what you have shown to other eyes. Go or go ahead, and surprise me. Say you’ve lead the way to a mirage.
Go or go ahead, and just try me.
Nowhere’s now here smelling of junipers, fell off the hay bales, I’m over the rainbows. But oh, Medusa, kiss me and crucify this unholy notion of the mythic power of love. Look in her eyes, look in her eyes, forget about the ones that are crying.
Go or go ahead.
– Rufus Wainwright