My clothes and my windshield wipers and a locket of my hair
Everything is for sale
My rifle and my boots and my instant coffee maker
That poem 'bout the moon over Switzerland
My flowers and my walkie-talkie
All the liquid in my body
I'll set a price and post it to your e-mail
But my love, my love is not for sale
I could sell my pictures on the streets of Barcelona
Women 30 minutes at a time
New York City subway, three songs for a dollar
Or maybe just a chorus for a dime
The newspaper on the street
The sky reflecting at my feet
It's all been packaged, bottled, drawn to scale
But my love, my love is not for sale
Take just a minute of your day
Tell me one thing that you would live for
Dying, dying's easy, getting easier all the time
Tell me one thing not to throw it all away for
I'll sell you the morning and I'll sell you the night
I'll sell you the river and move along
I'll sell you the balconies, sell you the sidewalks
And all the shuttered windows of Bresson
I'll sell you the moon, I'll sell you the stars
And the forests with the lonesome wolfhound's wail
But my love, my love
My love is not for sale