Casa Batllo
 
 She smelled like a thunderstorm
 When I met her
 Down in the tenderloin
 Sipping tea
 Vicodin pills, some scotch
 And a sweater
 Soon I was feeling
 Back on my feet
 She lived in a little shack
 By the water
 The sound of the ships
 Would lull us to sleep
 A couple of sloths the world
 Had forgotten
 With nothing but youth
 & faraway dreams
 After the saints fly home
 Solomon resting in his tomb
 Paperbacks on a train
 Sugarcane fields
 All wet with rain
 Hurricane lanterns glow
 After the rain the boats are slow
 I'd rather be left behind
 Nothing's as pure as an empty mind