William Topley
La Habana
Saw you stand in the street, beneath a poster of CheWatching young couples kiss in the MalaconLate at night in the old town, you sang to guitarsAnd staggered back to your room with God knows whoBut I've got to be your lover man tonightI said, I've got to be your sweet thing and that's rightWell, I've got to be, I long to be your lover manAnd only I can make you feel alright or help you take flightAll the girls in the Tropicana, they roll their own cigarsI stand there in the dressing room, just drinking it inAll the companeros they're making love beneath the tropic starsTake a look at the priest and what he's calling sinWhen I'm in trouble, Lord, only me who feels the painNot one good word of advice from any of my so-called friendsDown at Papa's Marina the old man drinks aloneWriting notes to his son a thousand miles awayAll the girls in the Bodeguita, they flash their lime green eyesUntil they read what it says, and then they turn away
From Letras Mania