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The Clientele



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The Clientele

Never Saw Them Before

Three month summers
In the haunted suburbs pass
Your tea leaves in your glass
You think you're Paul Verlaine

Helen in the rhododendrons
Stole your clothes
I lost myself, I vanished in
A brief, ecstatic rain

Autumn round the corner
With its eeriness
Someone's smoking in a hatchback
Screwing on your lawn

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Late that year I caught a glimpse
Inside the trees
I cannot tell you what I saw
I was somebody else

As I sing
The night is clear
The swallows fly in from nowhere
From nowhere

I never saw them before
I never saw them before
I never saw them before