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
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