Year Of The Cat
Al Stewart
On a morning from a Bogart movie, in a country where they turn back time
You go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorré contemplating a crime
She comes out of the sun in a silk dress, running like a watercolour in the rain
Don't bother asking for explanations, she'll just tell you that she came
In the Year of the Cat
She doesn't give you time for questions, as she locks up your arm in hers
And you follow 'til your sense of which direction completely disappears
By the blue tiled walls near the market stalls, there's a hidden door she leads you to
These days, she says, I feel my life just like a river running through
The Year of the Cat
Well she looks at you so cooly, and her eyes shine like the moon in the sea
She comes in incense and patchouli, so you take her to find what's waiting inside
The Year of the Cat
Well, morning comes and you're still with her, and the bus and the tourists are gone
And you've thrown away the choice and lost your ticket, so you have to stay on
But the drum beat strains of the night remain in the rhythm of the new born day
You know sometime you're bound to leave her, but for now you're gonna stay
In the Year of the Cat
Mmh, Year of the Cat
Writer(s): Alistair Ian Stewart, Peter John Wood
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