On her biggest wall,
she hung Warhol,
a wish that she had never used.
The last magazine where she was seen,
sold to a self -refused.
This lovely one holds
an empty gun
And swears it was done on a dare
Now only fears that her career
Is damaged beyond repair
Down on Washington Square
Some agrees,
blows the shades off her window,
she stares on to 7th Avenue.
She sees a frosty father,
out on the corner,
trying to sell his point of view.
Out of action, she tells her connection,
I need a fix, this just isn't fair.
And he takes a walk around
the block
and disappears into thin air,
into Washington Square.
She reads every page of Vogue magazine,
studies every single book.
She came on the scene
behind Amphetamine,
and left before they
finished the book.
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
is this me you no longer care?
You used to tell me that I was the one,
but now that you're no longer here
I stand and stare out on Washington
Square
Doesn't anybody understand
I need someone
Even in the dark, late at night
Just to throw them around
I saw an art show
I saw Jaco,
the best story walking across the street
He barely mumbled
as he was barely stumbling
for somebody he's gotta meet
It's that loved one,
with an empty gun,
who did it all to dare
He came on to see behind the canopy,
the nappy portion,
who was barely even there
That's not Purple Rain,
that's June in California,
an d New York City again.