Dry, warm with a sweet smelling southerly wind..
Noël Coward:
I am no good at love
My heart should be wise and free
I kill the unfortunate golden goose
whoever it might be
with over articulate tenderness
And too much intensity
I kill the unfortunate golden goose
whoever it might be
with over articulate tenderness
And too much intensity
I am no good at love
I batter it out of shape
Suspicion tears at my sleepless mind
And, gibbering like an ape,
I lie alone in the endless dark
Knowing there is no escape
I am no good at love
When my easy heart I yeald
Wild words come tumbling from my mouth
Which should have stayed concealed
And my jealousy turns a bed of bliss
into a battlefield
I am no good at love
I betray it with little sins
For I feel the misery of the end
In the moment that it begins
And the bitterness of the last goodbye
Is the bitterness that wins
….what gorgeous bitter melancholy.
Goodnight.
Micycle 