On a morning from a Bogart movie In a country where they turn back time You go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre Contemplating a crime
She comes out of the sun in a silk dress running Like a watercolor 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 till 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 coolly 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 your choice and lost your ticket So you have to stay on
But the drumbeat 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 going to stay