Love of my life, you’ve hurt me. You’ve broken my heart, and now you leave me. Love of my life, can’t you see? Bring it back, bring it back, and don’t take it away from me, because you don’t know what it means to me.
A lot of my songs are fantasy. I can dream up all kinds of things. That’s the kind of world I live in. It’s very sort of flamboyant, and that’s the kind of way I write. I love it.
Does it mean this, does it mean that that’s all anybody wants to know? I’d say what any decent poet would say if anyone dared ask him to analyze his work: if you see it, darling, then it’s there!
