I’ve seen you crash back down into the ash

Like an inverted Phoenix
So delectable yet totally ineffectual
Those intellectual verbal tricks

I’ve tried to save ya from your bad behaviour
And keep you safe within the mix
I’ve been here to stake you and whatever may break you

I’ve always been ready to fix
Oh, Lydia windswept and pale in my raincoat
Lydia shipwrecked and lost from the start
How could I ever turn my back to you
How could I ever deny you my heart.

That failed wannabe muso from the failed wannabe studio
And his angst filled introverted songs
Dumped you without any conscience; faked all that nonchalance;

Amongst a rant of venomous tongues

And that fat salesman guy with his food stained tie

Last seen on the streets of Hong Kong
And what about that actor? My God what a chapter

Another story where you didn’t belong

Oh, Lydia at the helm of your own personal Mayflower

Intrepid; clutching your horoscope and astronomical charts

How could I ever turn my back to you
How could I ever deny you my heart.

You visited the Bolshoi; read Chekhov and Tolstoy
You got your records of Mahler and Liszt
But common sense not so common and babe you look so solemn

Now you realise what you might have missed
Those laughing sons of bitches: all of ’em in stitches
Pointing at the slashes on your wrist
At your crack-whore clothes and the rings in your nose
As you stand there shaking your fist
Oh, Lydia femme fatale ‘neath my blankets
Lydia texting old friends gambling on nostalgia
Oh, Lydia – free delivery, no surcharge outcalls only
Checking out the morning sky getting ready to depart
How could I ever turn my back to you
How could I ever deny you my heart.