The Gallery

When I first saw your gallery

I liked the ones of ladies

Then you began to hang up me

You studied to portray me

In ice and greens

And old blue jeans

And naked in the roses

Then you got into funny scenes

That all your work discloses

Lady, don't love me now I am dead

I am a saint, turn down your bed

I have no heart, that's what you said

You said, I can be cruel

But let me be gentle with you

Somewhere in a magazine

I found a page about you

I see that now it's josephine

Who cannot be without you

I keep your house in fit repair

I dust the portraits daily

Your mail comes here from everywhere

The writing looks like ladies'

Lady, please love me now, I am dead

I am a saint, turn down your bed

I have no heart, that's what you said

You said, I can be cruel

But let me be gentle with you

I gave you all my pretty years

Then we began to weather

And I was left to winter here

While you went west for pleasure

And now you're flying bock this way

Like some lost homing pigeon

They've monitored your brain, you say

And changed you with religion

Lady, please love me now I was dead

I am no saint, turn down your bed

Lady, have you no heart, that's what you said

Well, I can be cruel

But let me be gentle with you

When I first saw your gallery

I liked the ones of ladies

But now their faces follow me

And all their eyes look shady