We imagined ourselves   As cathedral bells   Ringing out through the moribund streets   Like shrill courtesans    Making fanciful plans   That we whispered while drifting to sleep      And I told you I'd stay   In every possible way   Though we both knew that that wasn't true   You said "You would understand   If it was something so grand   As a mirrored reflection of you"      And New York in October   Was never so sober   As the beating on the windows in March   Trying so hard in vain   To stay out of the rain   Falling off our cathedral arch      You were (?)   You were (?)   You were Miss Cleopatra in heels   And anonymously   You were April to me   Throwing rocks just to see how it feels      But those lines in your eyes   And that platinum crown   And that gaudy red rouge on your cheeks   You must look so sublime   With some Neophyte charm   But you look like a common whore to me      But I liked you the best   In your plain simple mess   Drinking wine from a pink, plastic cup   While the radio played   Some soft serenade   And we noticed the sun coming up      And the blue in your eyes   Looked like ice when you cried   And you always felt so cold when we touched   Happy birthday to you   I sure hope it's not true   Even though I don't miss you that much