Dusty streets stare at me

Looking like a daytime nightmare

I should shave, try to save

Something of the man that's still there

Not much left to say, of the man who stayed in monterey



The stucco stores' open doors

Gape across the square and wonder

As this mans trembling hands

Tilt the bag his bottles under

Things are looking grey, for the man who stayed in monterey



Honey, darling, sweetheart, precious angel, little dove

The man who left you is looking pretty grim

Hypnotising, paralysing wine is my new love

'cos it makes your memory soft and dim



Now i walk from the park

Bleary eyed and droopy shouldered

Scruffy shoes, flopping loose

I know i'm looking tired and older

One more empty day, for the man who stayed in monterey



Photographs in my lap

Sparkling colours rush up to me

From the page, brown with age

All these things i keep are truly

Flowers on the grave, of the man who stayed in monterey



Flowers on the grave, of the man who stayed in monterey


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