Why thank you, yes - I guess I'm doing fine,
The chances are I just could lose my mind,
'Cause I'm sure I was with you that icy winter's night,
And this picture in my memory, sure seems to fit your smile;
Don't you remember me, I played my song on your telephone,
And I'm sure that you're the girl who painted children upon my window,
And changed the lights in my room to sad blue shadows,
Then when I woke up in the morning babe, you had flown.

CHORUS:
Don't you sit out on the street, at Don Quixote's feet,
'Cause he don't need you babe, half as much as me,
And if you've got nowhere to go, won't you come in out of the cold.

Well I'll bet you never thought I'd recognise,
That the tune you're humming, just happens to be mine,
And I've known that hazy flicker in your eyes,
And the way you sway your head from side to side,
When you're all dressed up in your sixteenth century clothes,
Hung on your body in Da Vinci ratio,
Every time you move you strike a pose,
Won't you please be in my Magic Theatre show.

CHORUS:
Now I'm feeling things that just don't seem quite right,
There's a high pitched humming on my old electric light,
Like a hundred sitars droning through the night,
Flashing off and on like some crazy neon sign;
Feel like I'm in a Bunuel movie, right here at home,
Surreal as Ornette Coleman's saxophone,
Playing on my broken gramophone,
Oh baby, don't you leave me here alone.