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I get lost in the maelstrom |
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I lose concentration |
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I see fish in the water |
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But too fast for me |
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So I go climbing up the long road |
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That leads out to the backstreets |
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And in a great walled garden |
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Is the place that I'm looking for |
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I've come to see... |
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The Mambo Queen of the Sandstone city |
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She sees things that I cannot see |
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Breaks it down like a true punk rocker |
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Because nothing is ever what it seems |
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She's got a puritan angel |
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She brought back from the Congo |
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He stands guard over the virgins |
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He stands watching in my dreams |
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She sculpts things in the garden |
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Where there are trees full of wind-chimes |
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They start ringing when she walks by |
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Like a wild weather warning |
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She's the Mambo Queen of the Sandstone city |
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She reads signs that I cannot see |
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Breaks it down like a true punk rocker |
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To splinters of mirror glass at my feet |
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And I have always loved her |
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I just didn't realise |
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It's a world full of curses |
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That we carry to the grave |
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But she knows all about that |
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She takes weight from my shoulders |
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She breathes fire on the deadwood |
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She breathes fire in my blood |
