Lana Del Rey - Salamander lyrics
Lana Del Rey [Elizabeth Woolridge Grant] New York City, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Lana Del Rey - Salamander lyrics]
Get out of my blood, salamander!
I can’t seem to blow off enough
Steam to get you out of my head
Soul cycle you to death
Run you out of my blood to San Pedro
And yet, everywhere I go, it
Seems there you are, and there I am
I don’t want to sell my stories anymore
Stop pushing me
Some stories aren’t meant to be sold
Some words aren’t meant to be told
I want to leave them underneath
The nightstand to be forgotten
Or remembered should my thoughts come
Upon them in the
Middle of the night after a long beach day
Or by you, some afternoon
To thumb through with your
Worn warm after-work hands
I love you, but you don’t understand me
I’m a real poet! My life is my poetry
My love making is my legacy!
My thoughts are about nothing, and beautiful
And for free you see, the things that can’t
Be bought can’t be evaluated
And that makes them beyond human reach
Untouchable, safe, otherworldy
Unable to be deciphered or metabolized
Something metaphysical
Like a view of the sea on a summer day on the
Most perfect winding road taken in
From the car window
A thing perfect
And ready to become a part of the texture
Of the fabric of something more ethereal
Like Mount Olympus
Where Zeus sent Athena and the rest
Of the immortals to play
I can’t seem to blow off enough
Steam to get you out of my head
Soul cycle you to death
Run you out of my blood to San Pedro
And yet, everywhere I go, it
Seems there you are, and there I am
I don’t want to sell my stories anymore
Stop pushing me
Some stories aren’t meant to be sold
Some words aren’t meant to be told
I want to leave them underneath
The nightstand to be forgotten
Or remembered should my thoughts come
Upon them in the
Middle of the night after a long beach day
Or by you, some afternoon
To thumb through with your
Worn warm after-work hands
I love you, but you don’t understand me
I’m a real poet! My life is my poetry
My love making is my legacy!
My thoughts are about nothing, and beautiful
And for free you see, the things that can’t
Be bought can’t be evaluated
And that makes them beyond human reach
Untouchable, safe, otherworldy
Unable to be deciphered or metabolized
Something metaphysical
Like a view of the sea on a summer day on the
Most perfect winding road taken in
From the car window
A thing perfect
And ready to become a part of the texture
Of the fabric of something more ethereal
Like Mount Olympus
Where Zeus sent Athena and the rest
Of the immortals to play