Simon Templar

Where the Lord's face is an all night cafe
There's a woman who'll wait on what you have to say
And your dreams are like marbles in the pocket of a little boy
They whisper when you hold them

Like a beautiful girl...


The day where you first heard your heart beat listens for you still
So I think it's not so much the painting as what you give yourself by what you leave

Your signature...


On Sundays the ladies took off their wiry old hats
and made donuts in the back of the church.
I could always smell them cooking in the middle of mass.

Cakes were prizes at carnivals
And holding hands was a gift of our landscapes
Because the heart is always that one summer night
When you stretched it from face to face, like chewing gum.
You could rig it up and hear each other through a tin can
But now it bakes and it hardens
Like an old dream under the front porch
Where the air is talcum
And my mamma's eyes are blue
And Father took the weird beast
and went walking next to you

...That is the picture I see