Verdi Cries
The man in 119 takes his tea aloneMornings we all riseTo wireless Verdi criesI'm hearing opera through the doorThe souls of men and women, impassioned allTheir voices climb and fallBattle trumpets callI fill the bath and climb inside
Singing... la-la-la...
He will not touch their pastryBut every day they bring him moreGold from the breakfast trayI steal them all awayAnd then go and eat them on the shore
I draw a jackal-headed woman in the sandSing of a lover's fateSealed by jealous hateThen wash my hand in the seaWith just three days moreI'd have just about learned the entire scoreTo Aida
Holidays must end as you knowAll is memoryTaken home with me:The opera, the stolen teaThe sand drawing, the verging seaAll years ago...