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
And 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
