Now should you expect to see something that you hadn't seen   In somebody you'd known since you were sixteen;    if love is a bolt from the blue, then what is that bolt but a glorified screw?   and that doesn't hold nothing together   Far from these nonsense bars and their nowhere music it's making me sick   And I know it's making you sick   There's nothing there, it's like eating air   It's like drinking gin with nothing else in   And that doesn't hold me together.      But for one crowded hour, you were the only one in the room   And I sailed around all those bumps in the night to your beacon in the gloom   I thought I had found my golden September in the middle of that purple June   But one crowded hour would lead to my wreck and ruin      And I know you like your boys to take their medicine   From the bowl with a silver spoon   Who run away with the dish and scale the fish by the silvery light of the moon   Who were taught from the womb to believe till the tomb    That as far as their bleeding eyes see   Is a pleasure pen, meant for them, builded and rent for them   Not for the likes of me   Not for the like of you and me      And for one crowded hour, you were the only one in the room   And I sailed around all those bumps in the night to your beacon in the gloom   I thought I had found my golden September in the middle of that purple June   But one crowded hour would lead to my wreck and ruin      Oh but the green-eyed harpy of the salt land   She takes into hers my hand   She says, "Boy I know you're lying   Oh but then, so am I,"   And to this I said "Oh well."      Well put me in a cage full of lions, I learned to speak lion   In fact I know the language well   I picked it up while I was versing myself in the languages they speak in hell   That night, the silence gave birth to a baby   They took it away to her silent dismay   And they raised it to be a lady   Now she can't keep her mouth shut      And for one crowded hour, you were the only one in the room   And I sailed around all those bumps in the night to your beacon in the gloom   I thought I had found my golden September in the middle of that purple June   But one crowded hour would lead to my wreck and ruin      For one crowded hour, you were the only one in the room   Well I played a few songs for those bumps in the night   In fact I played this very tune   You said, "What is this six-stringed instrument but an adolescent loom?"   And one crowded hour would lead to my wreck and ruin.