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I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel, |
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you were talking so brave and so sweet, |
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giving me head on the unmade bed, |
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while the limousines wait in the street. |
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|
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Those were the reasons and that was New York, |
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we were running for the money and the flesh. |
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And that was called love for the workers in song |
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probably still is for those of them left. |
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Ah but you got away, didn't you babe, |
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you just turned your back on the crowd, |
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you got away, I never once heard you say, |
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I need you, I don't need you, |
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I need you, I don't need you |
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and all of that jiving around. |
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|
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I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel |
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you were famous, your heart was a legend. |
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You told me again you preferred handsome men |
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but for me you would make an exception. |
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And clenching your fist for the ones like us |
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who are oppressed by the figures of beauty, |
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you fixed yourself, you said, |
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"Well never mind, we are ugly but we have the music." |
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|
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Ah but you got away, didn't you babe, |
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you just turned your back on the crowd, |
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you got away, I never once heard you say, |
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I need you, I don't need you, |
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I need you, I don't need you |
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and all of that jiving around. |
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I don't mean to suggest that I loved you the best, |
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I can't keep track of each fallen robin. |
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I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel, |
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that's all, I don't even think of you that often. |
