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	Em	G	Bm	F#m
The	stories of the	street are mine, the	Spanish voices	laugh

	Em	G	Bm	F#m
The	Cadillacs go cr	eeping now through the	night and the poison	gas,

	Em	C	D	F#
and	I lean from my	window sill in this	old hotel I	chose,

	B	E	B	A	E	Em
yes	one hand on my	suicide,	one hand on the	rose

I know you've heard it's over now and war must surely come,

the cities they are broke in half and the middle men are gone

But let me ask you one more time, O children of the dusk,

All these hunters who are shrieking now oh do they speak for us?

And where do all these highways go, now that we are free?

Why are the armies marching still that were coming home to me?

O lady with your legs so fine O stranger at your wheel,

You are locked into your suffering and your pleasures are the seal

The age of lust is giving birth, and both the parents ask

the nurse to tell them fairy tales on both sides of the glass

And now the infant with his cord is hauled in like a kite,

and one eye filled with blueprints, one eye filled with night

O come with me my little one, we will find that farm

and grow us grass and apples there and keep all the animals warm

And if by chance I wake at night and I ask you who I am,

O take me to the slaughterhouse, I will wait there with the lamb

With one hand on the hexagram and one hand on the girl

I balance on a wishing well that all men call the world

We are so small between the stars, so large against the sky,

and lost among the subway crowds I try to catch your eye

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