Your room is lying empty
and your heart is full of weeds
The city of your father's coat,
from your waist to knees
Charlotte rubs the flower she
lost between her legs
Her children all are grown now,
and she's too proud to beg
Love is sick and grown,
and your brother's sick and gone
The sun seeks his uniqueness to
show that he can break the mold
You have worked their factories
and you have tilled their fields
You have lived their fantasies to find
out which are real
He's dreaming of the
Spanish plains, the hills of
Tuscany
Sleeping in the olive groves of sunny
Italy
The mills now lie frozen,
only wounded by the wind
Wise men write about this place,
but only fools rush in
There are mountains made of marble
across the dark red sea
Old masters carved up perfect gods
but couldn't set them free
Far out in the distance are the
lives that can't be proved
Ooh, with eyes made for seeing
everything but with mousetrap
Close by the smells of treachery,
the lovers and their seeds
They look so sick and beautiful,
but they say what they need
Streaming over the
Spanish plains, the hills of
Tuscany
Sleeping in a yellow carousel,
sunny and green
I'm
See the mother and the child,
they're waiting in the streams
He's pointing to the flowers and
she's pointing to her wings
When she was a virgin, once she even tried
To jump off of a mountain
Which I know I wish I couldn't fly
The troops are on vacation
Now they're heading for the sun
With passports and their credit cards
Their orders and their guns
In the
Coliseum
The bullies breathe in fire
The matador keeps watching
The stakes keep getting higher,
they're getting higher
He's dreaming of the
Spanish plains, the hills of
Tuscany
Sleeping in the
Isle of
Garoza, sunny
Italy
Sleepin' in the alley of the road
Sunny in the evening
Ooh, ooh, ooh
Ooooooh
Ooooooh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh