If Samuel Beckett Had Met Lenny Bruce Songtext

I have this idea of what you never were,
of what was but never could have been
open season and my mind's a blur, of
nothing spoken, heard or seen
I'd wash away these ugly stains
but I need them as Smeraldina craved Bach,
as she left Belaequa sitting in the rain,
his hands in a jelly in his lap
oh, Smeraldina-Rima
what's your name a-mean-a?