Elope with me Miss Private and we’ll sail around the world. I will be your Ferdinand and you my wayward girl. How many nights of talking in hotel rooms can you take?. How many nights of limping round on pagan holidays?. Oh elope with me in private and we’ll set something ablaze. A trail for the devil to erase. San Francisco’s calling us the Giants and Mets will play. Piazza New York catcher are you straight or are you gay?. We hung about the stadium we’ve got no place to stay. We hung about the tenderloin and tenderly you tell. About the saddest book you ever had to read. That always makes you cry. The statue’s crying too and well he may. I love you I’ve a drowning grip on your adoring face. I love you my responsibility has found a place. Beside you and strong warnings in the guise of gentle words. Come wave upon me from the wider family net absurd. “You'll take care of her I know it you will do a better job”. Maybe but not what she deserves. Elope with me Miss Private and we’ll drink ourselves awake. We’ll taste the coffee houses and award certificates. A privy seal to keep the feel of 1960 style. We’ll comment on the decor and we’ll help the passer by. And at dusk when work is over we’ll continue the debate. In a borrowed bedroom virginal and spare. The catcher hits for .318 and catches every day. The pitcher puts religion first and rests on holidays. He goes into cathedrals and lies prostrate on the floor. He knows the drink affects his speed he’s praying for. a doorway. Back into the life he wants and the confession of the bench. Life outside the diamond is a wrench. I wish that you were here with me to pass the dull weekend. I know it wouldn’t come to love my heroine pretend. A lady stepping from the songs we love until this day. You’d settle for an epitaph like “Walk Away Renee”. The sun upon the roof in winter will draw you out like. a flower. Meet you at the statue in an hour. Meet you at the statue in an hour