On a morning from a Bogart movie
In a country where they turn 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 watercolor in the rain
Don't bother asking for explanations
She'll just tell you that she came from the year of the cat

She doesn't give you time for questions
As she takes up your arm in hers
As you follow her your sense of which direction
Completely disappears

By the blue-tiled walls near the market stalls there's a hidden door she takes 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 coolly
And her eyes shine like the sun and the sea
She comes in incense and patchouli
So you take her
To find what's waiting inside the year of the cat

When morning comes and you're still with her
And the bus and the tourists are gone
And you've thrown away your choice
You've 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 going to stay in the year of the cat