We looked toward the woman And my face burned red, blushing When she asked me the questions Are you ever alone? Are you younger or older?
I held her close In my thoughts some way wanting In spite of the sorrow My tensing in terror
On the strip of Ventura With the tin barrels burning under a halo of moonlight When the hour was lonely It was the way that she touched me Her arm on the window
And the way she said: Baby And the way she said: Baby
