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, 3 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 bottled, packaged, 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, I'll 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