Veronica Lake
Radioontheshelf
Constance Frances Marie Ockleman was an American actress who went by the stage name of Veronica Lake. She was best known for her femme fatale roles in film noirs with Alan Ladd during the 1940s and her peek-a-boo hairstyle. By the late 1940s, Lake’s career began to decline, due in part to her alcoholism. She ended up working as a waitress where she could feed her drinking habit and her past went unnoticed by the customers and those she worked with. Marlon Brando, who had once been her boyfriend sent her a cheque for a
,000 but she was too proud to cash it and instead framed it and put it up the wall of the small seedy apartment she lived in. The drinking finally caught up with her and she died at the young age of fifty
I’m on a raft heading northwards to the city where Ms Ockleman sleeps
On a bed that is made up from heartache and all the promises she’d never keep
It’s a memory she holds for her lover a man of impeccable taste
Who kept greenfinches locked up in cages with photos of Veronica Lake
Going down to the bar on the corner and ordering drinks with panache
One more for Marie and two more Frances and an armful for poor sweet Constance
“Oh I’m feeling sleepy my heads at the top of the world
My judgement impaired my life now in tatters no place for a beautiful girl
Oh I’m feeling sleepy on account of noone seems to care
For the girl who once gave you her beauty but now lives on the rocks of dispair.”
And she married for pleasure to men who just wanted her dreams
But it ended as always in sadness each blaming the other or so it seems
No filmwork just waiting on tables taking sips from the customers glass
Alone with the liquor and memories and a liver that barely would last
“Oh I’m feeling sleepy there’s nowhere to go for relief
The journey from lightness to darkness is one that it’s hard to believe
Oh I’m feeling sleepy not even The Captain can help
Too young for the cold slab of Burlingtons mortuary an old story on somebodys shelf
I’m on a raft heading northwards to the city where Ms Ockleman sleeps
On a bed that is made up from heartache and all the promises she’d never keep
It’s a memory she holds for her lover a man of impeccable taste
Who kept greenfinches locked up in cages with photos of Veronica Lake
Going down to the bar on the corner and ordering drinks with panache
One more for Marie and two more Frances and an armful for poor sweet Constance
“Oh I’m feeling sleepy my heads at the top of the world
My judgement impaired my life now in tatters no place for a beautiful girl
Oh I’m feeling sleepy on account of noone seems to care
For the girl who once gave you her beauty but now lives on the rocks of dispair.”
And she married for pleasure to men who just wanted her dreams
But it ended as always in sadness each blaming the other or so it seems
No filmwork just waiting on tables taking sips from the customers glass
Alone with the liquor and memories and a liver that barely would last
“Oh I’m feeling sleepy there’s nowhere to go for relief
The journey from lightness to darkness is one that it’s hard to believe
Oh I’m feeling sleepy not even The Captain can help
Too young for the cold slab of Burlingtons mortuary an old story on somebodys shelf