On a morning from a Bogart movie <br />In a country where they turn back time <br />You go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre <br />Contemplating a crime <br />She comes out of the sun in a silk dress running <br />Like a watercolour in the rain <br />Don't bother asking for explanations <br />She'll just tell you that she came <br />In the year of the cat <br /><br />She doesn't give you time for questions <br />As she locks up your arm in hers <br />And you follow till your sense of which direction <br />Completely disappears <br />By the blue tiled walls near the market stalls <br />There's a hidden door she leads you to <br />These days, she says, I feel my life <br />Just like a river running through <br />The year of the cat <br /><br />[Instrumental Interlude] <br /><br />Well morning comes and you're still with her <br />And the bus and the tourists are gone <br />And you've thrown away the choice and lost your ticket <br />So you have to stay on <br />But the drum-beat strains of the night remain <br />In the rhythm of the new-born day <br />You know sometime you're bound to leave her <br />But for now you're going to stay <br />In the year of the cat
