|
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 |
