CASANOVA I'm on the frontpage of a dirty magazine Mr. January pumpkin carousing Can't you see my face it's alive Close the curtains Flip the switch, make me happy Baby, you're a bitch Turn me on, turn me on, tonight Casanova, do you love her Now do you really think that you will find That bit of self-esteem to push between her legs And make her happy like you used to do And the time when everything was simple She was seventeen and you were twenty two And it was summer It was the summer when you ran away From the traffic noise of screaming rubber ducks And grieving wives on channel 45 When no one talks about the weather anymore Casanova, you're getting older Now the world is not for you to blame It's just a movie rolling backwards Randomly injecting choises that we call in vain And the violence that you try to justify Is not a language that I still contain But in the summer I will wrap you up in cellophane And bury you under the pouring rain 'Cause no one talks about the weather anymore