I loved Marianne in the winter In the loft of her favorite lover She was growing older The winter nights were cold She told me I'm frightened I said yes I know. Her eyes held me to her They burned with such a fire For the saints on the walls Holy candles in the halls For those who had left her I held her and cried. Oh, Marianne you are beautiful To be this friend To a stranger who Leaves you only to fall Do not cry you have helped me I will not say goodbye. I know her from another song Her older poet wrote before We played it in the morning laughing on the floor Till he came knocking on the lower East Side door. Yes you know I miss her Her and her stories of the night I called her a rabbit She gave me back my life I haven't heard her voice since the Isle of Wight.