I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel   You were talking so brave and so free   Giving me head on the unmade bed    While the limousines wait in the street       And those were the reasons and that was New York    I was running for the money and the flesh    That was called love for the workers in song   It still is for those of us left.       But you got away, didn't you, baby?    You just threw it all to the crowd   You got away, they can't pay you now    For making your sweet little song      I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,    In the winter of 67   My friends of that year they were all trying to go queer    And me I was just getting even       And those were the reasons and that was New York   I was running for the money and the flesh    That was called love for the workers in song   It still is for those of us left      But you got away, didn't you, baby?    You just threw it all to the crowd    You got away, they can't pay you now    For making your sweet little song