May i call you beatrice lyrics

Artist  : Wild strawberries 
Song : May i call you beatrice
 
Just a little thought in the head of the one With
the sunburnt cheeks and the eyes to the ground
Making earwaxed tongue-tied gutter sounds
Thinking of the lost rib, dialing the indelible
Thinking the unthinkable-no one's home And the
eyes say I don't believe we've met I don't
believe you've had the privilege I don't believe
we've met When the wind blows cold And the eyes
of the child grow old When the erratic conga
rises and falls Above the faithful metronome You
can take me back to the gravestone See her strain
from the weight of the globe Spinning around his
assumptions-barefoot and tight-lipped He in his
favourite chair blowing his world around First
she's Beatrice, then she's a pumpkin Then she's a
faded leaf in a book on his pantry shelf The head
sees the hand play with the ring in the pocket
And the head knows the hand knows the ring is as
round As the tear-soaked shoulder in a room in
another town The ring is getting heavy and so is
the crown Which she drags to the chair feebly to
keep the swelling down When the bird in the bush
is worth two in the hand And the empty cage holds
the empty man The bird keeps flying from the
Orgoglian rising And the phone keeps ringing and
the phone keeps ringing And the ring keeps
slipping and the phone And the phone keeps on
ringing And he's thinking about the one who got
away