In the Sanatorium

In the sanatorium
 I've booked a private room
 Where you can feel at home
 Where we can be alone
 Just you, the nurse and me
 In mountain scenery
 All the time that you've been ill
 Your face has looked so pale
 Drained by the force of will
 Drained by the wait until
 My treatment makes you well
 Or weaker still
 Half in love with easeful death
 I cloud the mirror with your breath
 Half in love with this disease
 That keeps you close to me
 Your eyes grow heavy as I read
 'The Immoralist' by Andre Gide
 Fall asleep my sickly darling
 Rest in peace
 Men you used to know declare
 Their most sincere desire
 To travel here and share
 The treatment you require
 Their letters saying they care
 Are on the fire
 As I interrupt the muslin
 Hanging round the bed
 I wake you with the rustling
 And you raise your head
 And ask again, your voice uncertain
 If you're not a burden
 Half in love with easeful death
 I cloud the mirror with your breath
 Half in love with this disease
 That keeps you close to me
 Your eyes grow heavy as I read
 'The Immoralist' by Andre Gide
 Fall asleep my sickly darling
 Rest in peace
 I wonder, as I watch you sleep
 If this possessive streak
 Will make me force my love
 Or if the trick is cheap
 And if you took your drug
 And if you're deep enough asleep
 In the sanatorium
 I've booked a private room
 Where you can feel at home
 Where we can be alone
 Just you, the nurse and me
 In mountain scenery
 (For love will endure or not endure regardless of where we are)