John Cale
Fear Is A Man's Best Friend - John Cale


Chelsea Girl

Nico: Chelsea Girl

  1. Little Sister
  2. Winter Song
  3. It Was a Pleasure Then

Winter Song written by Cale, Little Sister by Cale and Reed, and It was A Pleasure Then by Nico, Cale and Reed.

Little Sister

Don't call me home, little sister
Before the night is done
My love and I are fleeing
Running into the sun.

Turn to fly, go away
Little bird, please don't stay
Fare thee well.

Take up all your jewels and gold, Bury them away in the earth.
Let your memory reduce them to dust
But don't forget the knife that was thrust.

Turn to fly, go away
Little bird, please don't stay
Fare thee well.

Frozen kiss by the fountain Running into the sea
Where shadows choose their horrors
Designed for music.

Turn to fly, go away,
Little bird, please don't stay,
Fare thee well.


Winter Song

The snow on your eyelids that curtsy with age
Is freezing the stares on tyranny's wings.
The bitter is hard and the warmth of your skin
Is diseased with familiar caresses.

Withdrawing from splendor and royal decay Among all the triumphs and jaded awards
The angry and blazing circus of sun
Blasphemes as the crown prince arises.

You cannot beget all the sins that you owe To the people of paradise magic
Pretend to answer passion and form
With foreign rationalizations.

Primroses are the jewels that lurk Among masks of pleasure that flicker with doubt
Embraces of fame that's simultaneously fear
To advance and demand to be recognized.

The river shall flow through hollow green faces Of caricature's resentment etched out of the tongues.
Both reluctant princess asleep before birth
The classical sensitive failures.

The worshipping wicked cling to the dark of your heart
Lying there and wait with your angels
Moan and ravish from dawn to dusk
The avaricious young lovers.


It Was a Pleasure Then

It was a pleasure then
Could you just be here again
To know what there was to see
When all the Sunday people
Were so quiet in the dark
Afraid to be better the next day

La la la la la la la
La la la la la la la.

It was a pleasure then
When we could sit and stare again
Until the stars fell through
The cloudy trees unto the grass
Stars to smile with us
Until they too had tears in their eyes
And tell us this long tale of how much we
Must not agree.

It was a pleasure then
To see the dying days again
And horror of the nights
Never never never never be too quiet
Told a secret hard to hide somewhere at last
As long as we could see
The star confess this crime
0f bitter tasting hatefulness
Above our shattered minds.

It was a pleasure
It was a pleasure
La la la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la la la la.

© 1999- Hans Werksman