Diamonds and Rust
Well, I’ll be dammed, here comes your ghost again,
But that’s not unusual, it’s just that the moon is full,
And you happened to call.
And here I sit, hand on the telephone,
Hearing a voice I’d known, a couple of light years ago,
Heading straight for a fall.
As I remember your eyes were bluer than robin’s eggs,
My poetry was lousy you said.
Where are you calling from?
A booth in the midwest.
Ten years ago I bought you some cufflinks.
You brought me something.
We both know what memories can bring.
They bring diamonds and rust.
Well, you burst on the scene already a legend,
The unwatched phenomenon, the original vagabond,
You strayed into my arms.
And there you stayed, temporarily lost at sea,
The Madona was yours for free,
Yes the girl on the half shell
Could keep you unharmed.
Now I see you standing with brown leaves falling all around
And snow in your hair.
Now you’re smiling out the window of that crummy hotel
Over Washington Square.
Our breath comes out white clouds mingles and hangs in the air,
Speaking strictly for me, we both could’ve died then and there.
Now you’re telling me you’re not nostalgic.
Then give me another word for it.
You who’re so good with words and at keeping things vague.
Cause I need some of that vagueness now.
It’s all come back too clearly.
Yes I loved you dearly.
And if you’re offering me diamonds and rust,
I’ve already paid.