On a morning from a Bogart movie. In a country where they turn back time. You go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre. Contemplating a crime. She comes out of the sun in a silk dress running.
All right you saw me in the "International Times". You've got my picture in your book. You tell your friends not to call at weekend,. And now you wear that far-off look.
First time I saw you, you were Mr. Natural. You seemed so diffident, you hardly spoke at all. Now you come to me and you've got green streaks in your hair.
I sent my crack divisions through the early morning mist. When they fell on your positions you were powerless to resist. Encircling and probing for the weakness in your line.
How your restless hungry eyes. Speak of cloudy summer skies. The morning dew. Turns into rain. Lonely winds will blow my name. . Dying leaves are seasons gone.
Find another lover tomorrow. Go find another lover today. You've been so long on lonely street. That you're surely falling into decay. It's time to reconstruct yourself.
Come on to Haiti, you don't need a treaty. Papa Doc will do you OK. Tonton in the sun, he's polishing his gun. You'd better just stay out of his way..
It was late in December, the sky turned to snow. All 'round the day was going down slow. Night like a river, beginning to flow. I felt the beat of my mind go.
While travelling northwards. On a back country lane. I came on the village. Where first I grew. And stopped to climb up. The hill once again. Looking down from the tracks.
The wands of smoke are rising. From the walls of the Bastille. And through the streets of Paris. Runs a sense of the unreal. . The Kings have all departed.
On a morning from a Bogart movie. In a country where they turn back time. You go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre. Contemplating a crime. She comes out of the sun in a silk dress running.
This place is so far away. From what passes for civilized life. No shops and no cars and no city lights. Just a river of stars. Over the southernmost ocean so cold.
I came upon two strangers on a black and white TV. In a hotel room called nowhere, in the dead of half-past three.. Their eyes met across the captain's table,.
I always was the reckless kind, I do what I must do. I put the danger out of mind, and go on. I joined the barnstorm fliers back in 1922. And above those dusty farms, we put a shw on.
I sat upon the Evening Hill. The shadows set, the night grew still. And as I sat, guitar on knee. A voice of flowers called to me. . Sing, sing to me your song.
So we've come to the end my beautiful friend. Looks like the time is near. Though a part of me knows. That it's right to let go. Wish I could hold you here.
You put your tongue in the ear of the night. Expecting rejection but finding instead. A certain connection that left you surprised. And then gave you electrical thoughts in your head.
Mr Carmichael says that he loves his wife. I believe he does. Gives her everything that a man can give. But Mr Carmichael beggars himself on the altar.
Oh, you slipped away from the harbor side. In the mornin bright and clear. And your sails were filled with the risin wind. And you laughed for all to hear.
On a Christmas cake day one Friday in August. In a bookshop in Charing Cross Road. I first set eyes on a girl and at once I did know. She had eyes like a poet and hair like a rainbow.