REED, Lou

REED, Lou

Sweet Jane

Standin' on a corner

Suitcase in my hand

Jack's in his corset, Jane is in her vest

and me I'm in a rock 'n' roll band. Huh.

Riding a Stutz Bear Cat, Jim

ya know, those were different times

all the poets studied rules of verse

and those ladies they rolled their eyes

Sweet Jane

Now Jack, he is a banker

and Jane, she's a clerk

and both of them save their monies

when they get home from work

sittin down by the fire

O, the radio does play

the classical music there, Jim

The March of the Wooden Soldiers

All you protest kids

you can hear Jack say

Sweet Jane

…..

Some people they like to go out dancin

and other people they have to work. Just watch me now

and there's even some evil mothers

Well there gonna tell you that everthing is just dirt

you know that women never really faint

and that villians always blink their eyes

that children are the only ones who blush

and that life is just to die

But anyone who ever had a heart

they wouldn't turn around and break it

and anyone who ever played a part

They wouldn't turn around and hate it

Sweet Jane, Sweet Sweet Jane

Venus in Furs

Shiny, shiny, shiny boots of leather
Whiplash girlchild in the dark
Clubs and bells, your servant, don’t forsake him
Strike, dear mistress, and cure his heart

Downy sins of streetlight fancies
Chase the costumes she shall wear
Ermine furs adorn the imperious
Severin, severin awaits you there

I am tired, I am weary
I could sleep for a thousand years
A thousand dreams that would awake me
Different colors made of tears

Kiss the boot of shiny, shiny leather
Shiny leather in the dark
Tongue of thongs, the belt that does await you
Strike, dear mistress, and cure his heart

Severin, severin, speak so slightly
Severin, down on your bended knee
Taste the whip, in love not given lightly
Taste the whip, now plead for me

I am tired, I am weary
I could sleep for a thousand years
A thousand dreams that would awake me
Different colors made of tears

Shiny, shiny, shiny boots of leather
Whiplash girlchild in the dark
Severin, your servant comes in bells, please don’t forsake him
Strike, dear mistress, and cure his heart

All Tomorrow’s Parties

And what costume shall the poor girl wear

To all tomorrow's parties

A hand-me-down dress from who knows where

To all tomorrow's parties

And where will she go, and what shall she do

When midnight comes around

She'll turn once more to Sunday's clown and cry behind the door

And what costume shall the poor girl wear

To all tomorrow's parties

Why silks and linens of yesterday's gowns

To all tomorrow's parties

And what will she do with Thursday's rags

When Monday comes around

She'll turn once more to Sunday's clown and cry behind the door

And what costume shall the poor girl wear

To all tomorrow's parties

For Thursday's child is Sunday's clown

For whom none will go mourning

A blackened shroud

A hand-me-down gown

Of rags and silks, a costume

Fit for one who sits and cries

For all tomorrow's parties