I'm rolling in a borrowed car A hot-rod called egyptian We'll use for making portraits The colors flashing by outside We'll bring into the fortress
The towers that you wrote of Will be too far off to listen And I fear my hand you'll take Morning-cakes like animals
Might be sitting at the table But here beneath my touch I'll keep you as sweetly as I'm able Beside his dark egyptian model Almost high I'll drive you both To where the papers cannot follow