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Elvis Costello
Elvis Costello


Background information
Birth name Declan Patrick MacManus
Born August 25, 1954
Born place Paddington, London, England
Genre(s) Pub Rock
New Wave
Years active 1970—present
Label(s) Island Records
Columbia Records
Mercury Records
Lost Highway Records
Verve Records
Deutsche Grammophon
Hip-O Records
Stiff Records
Associated acts Diana Krall
Burt Bacharach
Brodsky Quartet
Website Website



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  E  →  Elvis Costello  →  Albums  →  The Juliet Letters

Elvis Costello Album


The Juliet Letters (1993)
1993
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. . .


(instrumental)

. . .


I don't know what I would do
If this letter should fall into
Other hands than it should pass through
For other eyes
He said, "It was nothing...it's over and done"
But the rotten worm was burrowing still
Its spirit invades me bleeding me white
For other replies
I searched his pockets
I searched his eyes
I searched his wallet for clues and lies
And I found a number that I somehow dialed
A woman answered, a woman smiled
Then she hung up on the silence unperplexed
Innocently spun her rolodex
I dialed again I could not resist
Revealing just the dentist receptionist

One day we'll laugh about it or maybe we'll curse
But there is one thing that is making it worse
And it's the lack of forgiveness that I can't disguise
No matter how well he lies
Now we don't know each other anymore
And when we touch our lips feel sore
I question the longing left in his sighs
For other eyes

. . .


You're a swine and I'm saying that's an insult to the pig
In the foul furrow that you dig
Why don't you lay your head down
In that unconsecrated ground
WAS she your MOTHER?
Or WAS she your bride
To defile and to blister
To gnaw at her side
Is this the end of the world?
Now that you've finished your life
This RIDDLE is the work of my little pen-knife

. . .


I marvel at the wonder of it in our souless age
Fast flow the tears upon the page
Don't be alarmed I am her friend
Will I be excused if I presume
It's more than disappointment that we share
You share the same sorry life, the families fight,
that unhappy blade you both invite
This romantic ideal has a lonely appeal
I once loved someone the way that you do
But I had to let her go
I live with my regret
Don't despair my would-be Juliet

. . .


(instrumental)

. . .


Thank you for the flowers
I threw them on the fire
And I burned the photographs that you had enclosed
God they were ugly children
So you're the little bastard of that brother of mine
Trying to trick a poor old woman
'Til I almost had a weakness
Last week Cousin Florence
Bit your Uncle Joe
Hit him on the forehead with a knife and a fork
She said that he looked like the devil
Then she said... "pass the vinegar," I'm beginning to think
That I'm the only one who hasn't taken to the drinking of it
Though I almost had a weakness

It pains me to mention
These delicate concerns
While I have to tolerate you family jewels
I really mustn't grumble
'Cause when I die the cats and dogs will jump up and down
And you little swines will get nothing
Though I almost had a weakness

. . .


Why is Daddy not here?
Are you crying?
Why?
Does he still love me?
Will you take care of me?
If you both love me so
Why don't you love each other
Mummy's gone missing
Daddy's on fire (x3)

. . .


The hunted look, the haunted grace
The empty laugh that you cultivate
You fall into that false embrace
And kiss the air about her face
Who do you think you are?
The tres bon mots you almost quote from your
QUIVER of literary darts
A thousand or so tuneless violins thrilling your cheap
little heart
Who do you think you are?

My cigarette burns right down to the ash, my coffee
cup is unstained
The waiter hovers close at hand
His courtesy strained

Who do you think you are?
I close with my regards
Well I'm the red-face gentleman
Caught in this picture postcard
Who do you think you are?

Trying my best to make the best of your absence
Though the joke gets tired and sordid
Sea-shell hearts get trampled under foot
Punchlines unrewarded

But even at this distance it's not easy to accept
The vision that I chase returns when I least expect it
I've fallen from your tired embrace
I kiss the air around the place that should be your face.

. . .


My dear impulsive darling I suspect my letter got to
you too late
And it's really just a silly fragment of paper
But it means so much to those who wait
All the suffering days and nights till I dare dream again
There you suddenly stand and I'll be damned if you
didn't disappear with the dawn

Hours pass and darkness comes
Soon I will close my eyes
Will you return if you don't reply
You'll be taking my life in your hands
You'll be taking my life in your hands
Taking my life in your hands

I don't know why my dearest darling
I can't tell you how I feel when you are near
When I see you have returned my letters unopened
I will tear them up, your voice ringing in my ears
But you're kidding yourself if you think this
correspondence will end
I can always pretend words I don't have the courage to
send
Reach you

Hours pass and darkness comes
Soon I will close my eyes
Will you return if you don't reply
You'll be taking my life in your hands
You'll be taking my life in your hands
Taking my life in your hands

. . .


Don't send any money!
Fate has no price
Ignore at your peril this splendid advice
An invaluable link in an infinite chain
An offer like this will just not come again
You wish you had women to charm and bewitch
Power of life and death over the rich young girls will
be swooning
Because you're exciting them
And not only fall at your feet but be biting them

Guaranteed, guaranteed to capture your breath
Or just possibly scare you to death

Sign it and seal it and send it to friends
But don't mention my name
Don't make any long term plans

In thirty-six hours your fortunes will change
Your best friends won't know you
And neither will strangers
Do not keep this letter
It must leave your hand
You have been selected from over five thousand

A twister or dupe will bamboozle or hoodwink you
I can't say more it would only confuse you
The wine that they offer will go to your head
And you'll start to see double in fishes and bread

Guaranteed, guaranteed for a lifetime or more
Guaranteed, for this world and the next
Guaranteed, guaranteed for the world and its mother
Cherish this life as you don't get another one

UNLESS you should take up this fabulous offer
Don't leave it too late or you'll be bound to suffer
And woebetide anyone so woebegone
You won't know you're born or about to pass on

You'll never get tired
You'll never get bored
By the way I just hope you're insured

And if you're not satisfied
If you want more
We can always provide an improved overture
Guaranteed at a price that is almost unbeatable
This offer is unrepeatable

Your trouble will vanish
Your tears will dry
Your blessing will just multiply
Guaranteed at a price that is almost unbeatable
This offer is unrepeatable

Guaranteed, guaranteed to bring fortune and favor
In a riot of colours, (a variety of) and flavours
Guaranteed at a price that is almost unbeatable
This offer is unrepeatable

Would I lie to you? Would I sell you a dud?
Just sign on the line. Could you possibly write it in
blood?

. . .


Dear sweet filthy world, my wife or whoever reads this
I think that I've lived too long
With all of my promise unfulfilled
But there is a veil drawn over all of that
I know you'll probably say, "Spare us the melodrama"
"I don't know how he chose the pills or the stupid revolver"
I'm out of luck
I'm not that strong
My hands, your neck
I might have wrung

Don't try to find me
I'm not worth anything anymore
I am not leaving you with all of your problems
The biggest one is me

Life is dark
Cold as the sea
Embrace me in my anguish
Put seaweed in my hair and vow that you won't cry because
I've gone
I can't go on, I can't go on, I can't go on
I must close now

. . .


St. Ignatus House, Willoughby Drive, Parrametta,
New South Wales
This fifth day of July, in the year of Our Lord nineteen
hundred and thirty five
Why must I apologize every time that I sit down to write
Through my own fault I may find
You're no longer living at this address
Please excuse the lack of news
The feeling of strange privilege
for the hour of trial, in these times of distress
Mean more than years imprisoned by etiquette.

I can remember when we were children
Though I could never imagine this day
Your brother told me we'd live forever
"I'll go one better," I heard myself say
And it seems so strange, now that he's gone to recall all these
games
While the years have divided us
Friendships have strained and broken

Oh, by the way, how's that girl that you wed
I hated you then, but I'm over the worst of it
I can't come home, I might as well say, life is short
I shall not write again

. . .


Sister 4 and Brothers 3
Hanging off the family tree
Practising for getting old
Do you want your fortune told
They're looking for you high and low
Now there's nowhere for you to go
So you'll just have to come out and face the music
Jacksons, Monk and Rowe
Long ago when we were kids and we cut your hair to bits
As we carried off like spoils the heads we'd smash right off
your dolls
But the wind is changing you know
Are you sure of your friends and your foe
Have you got what it takes to carry it off
Jacksons, Monk and Rowe

As the sun beats down and life begins to complicate
Will we both incinerate
If we touch that brass name-plate

Messrs. All, noble Sirs
Highly paid solicitors
Find enclosed my signed divorce
Sad proceedings you endorse
The burden of pity will show
In the people we used to know
Have you got enough strength to carry it off
Jacksons, Monk and Rowe

. . .


I write in hopes that by the time you get this letter
We may live to see a change for the better
Or are we so devoted to these wretched selfish motives
When the cold facts and figures all add up
They cannot contradict this sad burlesque
This sad burlesque
With miserable failures making entertainment of our fate
Laughter cannot dignify of elevate
This sad burlesque

Now can they recall being young and idealistic
Before wading knee-deep in hogwash and arithmetic
The pitying smirk
The argument runs like clockwork
Will run down eventually and splutter to a stop

P.S. Well by now you know the worst of it
And we've heard all the alibis that they've rehearsed
The smug predictions
If it's not a contradiction
Keep faith in human nature
And have mercy on the creatures in this sad burlesque

. . .


Is anyone there I can talk to?
Give us a sign if you're with me
Can't you see that I'm dying to hear you
Everyone else has lost interest
And I'm all alone in this dream house
Though you're gone
I don't feel like crying
Romeo is calling you

Knock once or twice if you're out there
Send me a message my sweetheart
When I'm out and about I'll be coming to see you

It isn't easy to live with this matronly face
at the window
Try to contact me, if you can see how I'm suffering
Romeo is calling you

Scatter the paper and thimbles
You can take care of the candles
An unplugged radio plays. She is close now
Me and my hand-holding baby walking the floor and the
ceiling
THIS IS the song SHE dictated this evening.
Romeo is calling you (x2)


. . .


I thought I'd write to Juliet, for she would understand
And when someone is already dead they can no longer let
you down
Instead I find myself talking to you, as my oldest friend
Tell me how I can advise someone, that I don't even know,
To welcome death
For I received a letter that is worth reporting
And though it may raise a cynical smile
It leaves a sinking feeling
Like when a soldier in a story says to the sergeant...
"Have you seen my pride and joy?..."
You know the rest...and it's no joke...Forgive me please as
I quote...
"This is a letter of thanks, as I'm so bored here in I can't
say where.
So I'm writing to people that I may never meet
And I was thinking if something you said..."

"I'm a female soldier, my name is Constance.
I enlisted in the military needing funds for college
I'm twenty-three years old and if I do get home alive
I imagine I may think again..."

"I'm sleeping with my eyes open for fear of attack
Your words are a comfort, they're the best thing that I have
Apart from family pictures and, of course, my gas mask
I don't know why I am writing to you"

. . .


(instrumental)

. . .


I should open with a kiss
For if you're reading this
You must have opened up your case
And found this letter where I placed it
In between the silk and lace
There were other clues, like your walking shoes
But I still refused to believe
That you were meant to be the first to leave
Everybody here sends you their love
How can I forget you still walk above
Or
below
Perhaps you'll never know this purgatory
We never could agree
There's a thought, there's a pause
No time to repent
Eternally yours
In a permanent lent

But if I should give you up
If you're right and life just stops
And I never see your face again
Then from unearthly pleasures, proud and plain
I shall abstain

Until you realise, my loss is your surprise
Unless you know otherwise
Then don't grieve
You see I had to be the first to leave

. . .


Did anybody notice, over marmalade and eggs
In between the Princess' legs
What with wars and floods and beggars
Not to mention stocks and shares
If you have a moment to spare
Can you write and reassure me that I have seen
They're constructing a time machine
There will be no need for the obituary pages
We can have any hero from the bygone ages
'Til the truth emerges, the argument rages

The major and the minor
Turn from tallow into tar
Should we leave them in their place?
Down in damnation's cellar

When any form of deity that you might enjoy
Can be conjured with a test-tube and a flame
If it's out there then science can explain it
Or at least remove the blame
And if theres is anyone you'd like to see again
The speak up quickly

Send us back Da Vinci then we don't have to ponder
The maddening smile of "La Giaconda"
The critics say Nijinsky, the dancer, of course
While the punters would probably prefer the horse
You'll find it's quicker than history, cheaper than divorce

The major and the minor
Turn from tallow into tar
Should we leave them in their place?
Down in damnation's cellar

Bring back Liberace or Ollie and Stan
Shakespeare will have to wait his turn
Elvis Presley and Puccini shall return
I suppose we live and learn, though it's hard to believe as we
cheerfully burn
It's curious
Some will call for justice.
There are murders to solve
What about Hitler? Or at least Lee Harvey Oswald
Give us this day and everything we squander
Anyone beautiful
Somebody blonder
They'll never please mankind, so lie back and enjoy it
Stop press: They've just decided to destroy it

The major and the minor
Turn from tallow into tar
Should we leave them in their place?
Down in damnation's cellar

. . .


Summertime withers as the sun descends
He wants to kiss you. Will you condescend?
Before you wake and find a chill within your bones
Under a fine canopy of lover's dust and humourous bones
Banish all dismay
Extinguish every sorrow
Eternity stinks, my darling. That's no joke
Don't waste your precious time pretending you're
heartbroken
There will be tears and candles
Pretty words to say
Spare me lily-white lillies
With the awful perfume of decay
Banish all dismay
Extinguish every sorrow
If I'm lost or I'm forgiven
The birds will still be singing
It's so hard to tear myself away
Even when you know it's over
It's too much to say.
Banish all dismay
Extinguish every sorrow
If I'm lost or I'm forgiven
The birds will still be singing

. . .


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