I was looking for a rhyme for the New York Times
When I sensed I was not alone
She said "do you know how to spell 'audaciously'?"
I could tell I was in love
And so I forced a smile contrary to my style
And she looked into my eyes
She said "do you want to go heaven,
Or would you rather not be saved?
Here comes my train
I'm on my way, will you not see?
I don't need your sympathy
I won't read your poetry, oh sweetness please
So she took me back to her basement flat
Which was down on Charlotte Street
Though it was never my intention
We were not intense, not least because--
"Well. if you must just take, then I'm a piece of cake"
That is what she said to me
And so I gave myself to her charity
Well at least that's how it seemed
Here comes my train
I'm on my way, what got into me?
I don't need your sympathy
I won't read your poetry, oh bittersweets
I was looking for a rhyme for the New York Times when I was distracted
Yes, those were precious times together that we wasted
Now I'm working hard for my union card
I must be leaving Charlotte Street
Though it was never my intention to stay so long
So long