…but he’s the sort who can’t know
least of all a woman.
He doesn’t know what a woman is.
He wants you for a possession,
something to look at,
like a painting or an ivory box.
Something to own and to display.
He doesn’t want you to be real,
or to think or to live.
He doesn’t love you, but I love you.
I want you to have your own thoughts and ideas and feelings,
even when I hold you in my arms.
It’s our last chance… it’s our last chance…
(A room with a view)
Now that you’re gone I’m trying to take it
Learning to swallow the rage
Found a new girl I think we can make it
As long as she stays on the page
This is not how I want it to end
And I’ll never be open again