I came so far for beauty, But I lost my way in the tower of song. You told me again you preferred handsome men, But for me, you would make an exception. And the birds, they sang at the break of day, "Start again," I heard them say. I lit a thin green candle To make you jealous of me. I, L.C., the broken voice Who tried to dance but had no choice. I saw the future — it was murder, Still I whispered Hallelujah. Suzanne takes you down to her place by the river, And she feeds you tea and oranges That come all the way from China. And Jesus was a sailor When He walked upon the water — And He spent a long time watching From His lonely wooden tower. Dance me to the end of love, Though love itself is not a victory march. It’s a cold and it’s a broken… But I never learned to hate enough To make my envy stay. I, L.C., with paper thin skin, A lover, a fighter, a voice in the sin. I saw the crack — that’s how the light gets in. Still I’m aching, still I sing. If it be your will, let me sing. If it be your will, let me stand Where the night is long and the heart is hollow — With the faith of the fallen man. Because I’m your man, And I never got over it. I am the little Jew Who wrote the Bible in bits.
