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 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 '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"