Meet me on the corner of 5th Street and Sunset Boulevard
We can stay at the Plaza hotel or even on Cannary Row
It could be, maybe not, maybe so, perhaps
I’m just a vagabond trying to find somewhere to belong
with Miranda maybe? I’ve always wanted to mention her in song
I hear she likes mohair suits or was that mohair boots?
Crossing over with the dead and the damned
Across the sea it’s so familiar but a different land
Like sands through the hour-glass,
Like a game of chess
I was put here, not there, and I’m gunna do my best.

Will you meet me in a jewellery shop? Tiffany’s perhaps?
I’ve got Audrey on my wall, I hear that she was quite tall
She is old school like Mozart and cowboys
When we are into electrical smorgasbords, the lines of new toys
This is new; this is hip, like fake gang wars
Watch what you say ‘cause I have a stiff upper lip and walk on all fours
I’m begging for you baby – your style and your fake tan
I’m gunna kiss you girl before we become one with the sand
Like the sands through the hour-glass
Like a game of chess
I was put here, not there, and I’m gunna do my best.

I’ve been through all of Hemingway’s books
You could tell people I’m well read but it’s already well known
Passion fades but style is eternal, I saw it in your look
I wanted your hand, that style to call my own
I told you to leave now or leave later – just leave when you want to
I knew you were long gone when I was just waiting
At an outdoor table in my favourite downtown café
I was smoking, drinking, contemplating
Wasting sands through the hour-glass
Playing a game of chess
I was put here, not there, and I’m gunna do my best.