On a morning from a Bogart movie in a country where they turned back time you go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre contemplating a crime She comes out of the sun in a silk dress running like a water color in the rain Don't bother asking for explanations She'll just tell you that she came in the Year of the Cat She doesn't give you time for questions as she locks up you arm in hers And you follow 'til your sense of which direction completely disappears By the blue-tiled walls near the market stalls there's a hidden door she leads you to These days she says I feel my life just like a river running through the Year of the Cat Well she looks at you so cooly and her eyes shine like the moon in the sea She comes in incense and pathchouli so you take her to find what's waiting inside the Year of the Cat Well morning comes and you're still with her and the bus and the tourists are gone And you've thrown away your choice and lost your ticket so you have to stay on But the drumbeat strains of the night remain in the rhythm of the newborn day You know sometime you're bound to leave her but for now you're gonna stay in the Year of the Cat