"My Bedroom Is a Sacred Place Now – There Are Children at the Foot of My Bed" is a poem released by Lana Del Rey for her first poetry book Violet Bent Backwards Over the Grass.
Cross-references[]
- Direct reference to "Yosemite".
- Poetry is also mentioned in "Brooklyn Baby" and "Norman Fucking Rockwell".
- Monsters are also mentioned in "Gods & Monsters", "Hope Is A Dangerous Thing For A Woman Like Me to Have — But I Have It" and in the live version of "Pin Up Galore".
- Rose gardens are also referenced in "Cherry" and "Burnt Norton".
- Violets are also mentioned "Valley of the Dolls", "Honeymoon" and “Violets for Roses.”
- Being crazy is also referenced in "Ride", "Off to the Races", "Happiness Is A Butterfly" among other songs.
- Big Sur is a place on Central Coast, California.
- Her being a poet is a theme also explored in the "Ride" music video monologue, and in the poems "Salamander" and "SportCruiser".
Poem[]
Last year, when I wrote you my last letter
the beginning of my future poetry
I acknowledged who you really were for the first time
I didn’t call you by any other name
I let you know that I knew the true nature of your heart
That it was evil, and that it convinced me that darkness was real
that the devil is a real devil
and that monsters don’t always know that they’re monsters
But projection is an amazing thing
after you left and burnt the house down
you tried to convince me that it was I who was holding the matches
You told me that I didn’t know who I was, but I do
I love rose gardens
I plant violets every time someone leaves me
I love the great sequoias of Yosemite
And if you asked my sister to describe the first thing she thinks of when she thinks of me
she would say camp fire smoke
I’m gentle
I’m funny when I’m drunk
But I haven’t been drunk for 14 years
I go on trips with my friends to the beach who don’t know that I’m crazy
I can do that
I can do anything
Even leave you
Because my bedroom is a sacred place now that there are children at the end of my bed
telling me stories about the friends that they pretend to hate, that they will make up with later
And there are fresh cut flowers that I grew myself in vases from the yard on nightstands, hand carved by old pals from Big Sur
And the longer I stay here
the more I am sure
that the more I step into becoming a poet
The less I will fall into being with you
The more I step into my poetry
The less I will fall into bed with you