Robyn Hitchcock Linctus House
you know i used to call my baby up and we'd get real close just like the telephone was a sofa and our thoughts would mingle and we'd leave our minds wide open like a big window in the evening air and we'd say, 'hey baby, come on in and help yourself to my soul' 'hey baby, come on in and help yourself to my soul' but these days, even saying, 'hello? how are you?' 'i'm fine, how are you?' takes a lot of sweat ain't that a shame ain't that a shame but in linctus house in my flesh hotel i don't care anymore you know my baby and me as kimberley would say we'd curl up like two dogs in front of a fire and our eyes would reflect each other in the warm long heat of love yeah, the warm long heat of love and i would hear the rain falling on the leaves outside i could'nt stand to close the window 'cos i'd shiver if i left her side but now i'd shake if we should meet and i spend most of my time in the bushes ain't that a shame know what you're doing ain't that a shame know what you've done but in linctus house in my flesh hotel i don't care anymore 'i understand how everything sometimes turns out to be nothing,' you say but i wonder if you do and if we understood each other there'd be no need to talk but even that, even talking is out of reach should i say it with flowers or should i say it with nails? i'm not the kind to push you around but i don't want to make myself vulnerable and if i was on my knees you'd have a pretty good view of my skull and i happen to know you're carrying a chisel but in linctus hotel in my flesh hotel i don't care anymore no in linctus house in my flesh hotel i don't care ain't that a shame know what you're doing ain't that a shame know what you've done
