(Al Stewart)On a morning from a Bogart moviein a country where they turned back timeyou go strolling through the crowd likePeter Lorre contemplating a crime.She comes out of the sun in a silk dressrunning like a water color in the rain.Don't bother asking for explanations.She'll just tell you that she camein the Year of the Cat.She doesn't give you time for questionsas she locks up you arm in hers.And you follow 'til your sense ofwhich direction completely disappears.By the blue-tiled walls near the market stallsthere's a hidden door she leads you to."These days," she says, "I feel my life justlike a river running throughthe Year of the Cat."Well she looks at you so coolyand her eyes shine like the moonin the sea.She comes in incense and pathchouliso you take her to find what'swaiting insidethe Year of the Cat.Well morning comes and you're still with herand the bus and the tourists are gone.And you've thrown away your choice andlost your ticket so you have to stay on.But the dr umbeat strains of the nightremain in the rhythm of the newborn day.You know sometime you're bound to leave herbut for now you're gonna stayin the Year of the Cat.
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Copy to Clipboard: (Al Stewart)On a morning from a Bogart moviein a country where they turned back timeyou go strolling through the crowd likePeter Lorre contemplating a crime.She comes out of the sun in a silk dressrunning like a water color in the rain.Don't bother asking for explanations.She'll just tell you that she camein the Year of the Cat.She doesn't give you time for questionsas she locks up you arm in hers.And you follow 'til your sense ofwhich direction completely disappears.By the blue-tiled walls near the market stallsthere's a hidden door she leads you to."These days," she says, "I feel my life justlike a river running throughthe Year of the Cat."Well she looks at you so coolyand her eyes shine like the moonin the sea.She comes in incense and pathchouliso you take her to find what'swaiting insidethe Year of the Cat.Well morning comes and you're still with herand the bus and the tourists are gone.And you've thrown away your choice andlost your ticket so you have to stay on.But the dr umbeat strains of the nightremain in the rhythm of the newborn day.You know sometime you're bound to leave herbut for now you're gonna stayin the Year of the Cat.
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