Baby, I want to raise money for you.
We have a lot of work ahead of us.
This is what I'm listening to:
Chelsea Hotel # 2
I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,
you were talking so brave and so sweet,
giving me head on the unmade bed,
while the limousines wait in the street.
Those were the reasons and that was New York,
we were running for the money and the flesh.
And that was called love for the workers in song
probably still is for those of them left.
Ah but you got away, didn't you babe,
you just turned your back on the crowd,
you got away, I never once heard you say,
I need you, I don't need you,
I need you, I don't need you
and all of that jiving around.
I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel
you were famous, your heart was a legend.
You told me again you preferred handsome men
but for me you would make an exception.
And clenching your fist for the ones like us
who are oppressed by the figures of beauty,
you fixed yourself, you said, "Well never mind,
we are ugly but we have the music."
And then you got away, didn't you babe...
I don't mean to suggest that I loved you the best,
I can't keep track of each fallen robin.
I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,
that's all, I don't even think of you that often.
I think of you quite often. Every second is shared with your image. I refuse to let go of it whether I choose to or not. You are there, and I love you. I've been creating quite a commotion as I tackle this self employment thing head first. I've been acting quite impulsively, as usual, but this time everything seems a bit more serious and weighted. It's quite exciting, and I find myself embracing uncertainty with familial ease. It's how I've been operating for over a year now, so I'm glad I'm getting better at it. Anxiety levels are at normal, and overall quality of life feels above average. The machine guns are lowered, and the guards are taking a well needed smoke break.
But not for long. They've got work to do.
We have a lot of work ahead of us.
This is what I'm listening to:
Chelsea Hotel # 2
I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,
you were talking so brave and so sweet,
giving me head on the unmade bed,
while the limousines wait in the street.
Those were the reasons and that was New York,
we were running for the money and the flesh.
And that was called love for the workers in song
probably still is for those of them left.
Ah but you got away, didn't you babe,
you just turned your back on the crowd,
you got away, I never once heard you say,
I need you, I don't need you,
I need you, I don't need you
and all of that jiving around.
I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel
you were famous, your heart was a legend.
You told me again you preferred handsome men
but for me you would make an exception.
And clenching your fist for the ones like us
who are oppressed by the figures of beauty,
you fixed yourself, you said, "Well never mind,
we are ugly but we have the music."
And then you got away, didn't you babe...
I don't mean to suggest that I loved you the best,
I can't keep track of each fallen robin.
I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,
that's all, I don't even think of you that often.
I think of you quite often. Every second is shared with your image. I refuse to let go of it whether I choose to or not. You are there, and I love you. I've been creating quite a commotion as I tackle this self employment thing head first. I've been acting quite impulsively, as usual, but this time everything seems a bit more serious and weighted. It's quite exciting, and I find myself embracing uncertainty with familial ease. It's how I've been operating for over a year now, so I'm glad I'm getting better at it. Anxiety levels are at normal, and overall quality of life feels above average. The machine guns are lowered, and the guards are taking a well needed smoke break.
But not for long. They've got work to do.
