She played the song.
‘This is how I feel about you.”
‘Vintage Red’ sung by Jay Jay Pistolet came on the car audio. I had never heard it before. I thought she was feeling all the good stuff but I was wrong; she was asking for more time. But I keep the lyric in my heart because it’s still good that someone felt like that about me once, even if she eviscerated and emptied me and hollowed me out.
Bad timing. And, I now realise, of all my mistakes, you were the mistakiest.
Here’s the song:
You’re a vintage red
Beef well-fed
You’re the Tuscan sun
You’re the only one
But all I really want, you see
Is to know you through to some degree
[Verse 2]
You’re the mountain air
You’re all things fair
You are Portofino
San Marino
Monte Carlo
Grand Casino
But all I really want, you know
Is to know you through and take it slow for a while
[Chorus:]
You are everything to me
The last decree, the guarantee
And I would go back underground
If ever you were not around
[Verse 3]
You’re a cashmere sweater
Hand-written letter
You are Blonde on Blonde
But a whole lot better
And all I really want from you
Is a bit of time where time is due
[Verse 4]
You’re a damn good read
I think we’re all agreed
That there is not a word in any verse
That you do not exceed
So all I think that’s left to say
Is you ain’t half bad
Hell, you’re okay to me
(ah ah ah ah ah)