Dusty streets stare at me Looking like a daytime nightmare I should shave, try to save Something of the man that's still there Not much left to say, of the man who stayed in Monterey The stucco stores' open doors Gape across the square and wonder As this mans trembling hands Tilt the bag his bottles under Things are looking grey, for the man who stayed in Monterey Honey, darling, sweetheart, precious angel, little dove The man who left you is looking pretty grim Hypnotising, paralysing wine is my new love 'Cos it makes your memory soft and dim Now I walk from the park Bleary eyed and droopy shouldered Scruffy shoes, flopping loose I know I'm looking tired and older One more empty day, for the man who stayed in Monterey Photographs in my lap Sparkling colours rush up to me From the page, brown with age All these things I keep are truly Flowers on the grave, of the man who stayed in Monterey Flowers on the grave, of the man who stayed in Monterey
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