Casanova - Major Parkinson

I’m on the front page of a dirty magazine

Mr. January pumping kerosene

Can’t you see my face, it’s a lie?

«Close the curtains, flip the switch, make me happy, baby you’re a bitch»

«Turn me on, turn me on, tonight»

Casanova, do you love her?

Now do you really think that you would find that bitter self-esteem to push

between her legs

And make her happy like you used to do?

In the time when everything was simple

She was seventeen and you were twenty-two

And it was summer

It was the summer when you ran away

From the traffic noise of screaming rubber ducks

And grieving wives on channel 45

When no one talks about the weather anymore

Casanova, you’re getting older

Now the world is not for you to blame

It’s just a movie rolling backwards randomly objecting choices that we call in

vain

And the violence that you try to justify is not a language that I still contain

But in the summer, I will wrap you up in cellophane

And bury you under the pouring rain

'Cause no one talks about the weather anymore