Castaways and Cutouts

there's a place your mother goes when everybody else is soundly sleeping through the lights of beacon street and if you listen you can hear her weeping, she's weeping, cause the gentlemen are calling and the snow is softly falling on her petticoats.

And here I dreamt I was a soldier And I marched the streets of birkenau And I recall in spring The perfume that the air would bring To the indolent town Where the barkers call the moon down The carnival was ringing loudly now And just to lay with you