Field Commander Cohen, he was our most important spy
Wounded in the line of duty
Parachuting acid into diplomatic cocktail parties
Urging Fidel Castro to abandon fields and castles
Leave it all and like a man
Come back to nothing special
Such as waiting rooms and ticket lines
Silver bullet suicides
And messianic ocean tides
And racial roller-coaster rides
And other forms of boredom advertised as poetry

I know you need your sleep now
I know your life's been hard
But many men have fallen
Where you promised to stand guard

I never asked but I heard you cast your lot along with the poor
But then I overheard your prayer
That you be this and nothing more
Than just some grateful faithful woman's favourite singing millionaire
The patron Saint of envy and the grocer of despair
Working for the Yankee Dollar

Drinkin' rum and Coca-Cola
Go down Point Koomahnah
Both mother and daughter
Working for the Yankee dollar
I know you need your sleep now
I know your life's been hard
But many men have fallen
Where you promised to stand guard

Ah, lover come and lie with me, if my lover is who you are
And be your sweetest self awhile until I ask for more, my child
Then let the other selves be rung, yeah, let them manifest and come
Till every taste is on the tongue
Till love is pierced and love is hung
And every kind of freedom done, then oh
Oh my love, oh my love, oh my love
Oh my love, oh my love, oh my love