Here they come now…
Something about her voice She seemed amazed she lived so long, that she made it out alive at all…
Here they come now…
I grab my boots and gloves, The ones from 1966, black leather to my elbows. Peel the windblown hair away from my mouth. Chased by the ghost of her voice.
Here they come now…
Her eyes were large and round and beautiful and sad Sad like her voice was sad. She knew too much. Saw too much in technicolor.
Here they come now…
I grab my boots and gloves, The ones from 1966, black leather to my elbows. Peel the windblown hair away from my mouth. Chased by the ghost of her voice. The Chelsea Girl.