Lyrics
Why won't you write to me
Twenty five days
July wasted, up in flames
If I could I would tear out
The eyes from your face
And ransom your blindness
Against my disgrace in July
And the smell of Second Avenue
At 5 AM in chains
If I could I'd erase
The ghost of your name
And take you for granted
The pleasure and pain of July
All alone with my
All alone with my own two burning hands
All alone with my
All alone with my pictures of the man
All alone with my
All alone with my own two burning hands
All alone with my
All alone honey can't you understand
If I could I'd surrender the blood in my veins
But not till you've fallen upon me like rain
In July
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