Judy lights a cigarette, I walk her to my walk-up flat
With Repetto shoes, a chocolate hat
She looks like Marie Antoinette
Her tailor is an astronaut
And when she smiles I really ought
To tell her what I really thought
About her photograph

Judy's laugh is like a rasp
Judy's lips are bold as brass
Judy says she's working class
Maybe through the looking glass
Blows a kiss, picks up a glass
Fills it from a secret flask
Slings it back and shyly asks
If she can take a bath

And I wonder why does sex
Always make me think of death?
Does it matter, I say no
There's a thousand ways to come but only one to go

The sex is good, we speak of Yeats
His lucky loves, byzantine hates
And how before the pearly gates
He made St Peter sit and wait
While he made ready to create
Like some plenipotentate
Releasing fluids from his brain
Judy says she feels the same
A silence settles on the flowers
We are living golden hours
Like the carp that emperors
Keep to feel superior
And I wonder why does sex
Always make me think of death?
Does it matter, I say no
There's a thousand ways to come but only one to go

Look within, the end begins
Only when beginning ends
Judy says, and smiles, and bends
And when she bends beneath her dress
Suddenly I see her breasts
It makes me stop and catch my breath
And I wonder why does sex
Always make me think of death?

The sex is good, we speak of Yeats
His lucky loves, byzantine hates
And how, before the pearly gates
He made St Peter sit and wait
And I wonder why does sex
Always make me think of death?
Does it matter, I say no
Cos there's a thousand ways to come but only one to go