The walls are closing inÂ
and the woodblock prints are meltingÂ
They say that Jimmy’s opened its doors againÂ
But is what’s on the menu still the same?
Have we lost the recipes forever?
Or are we just hoping for the best?
Well, hope is not a bad thing to haveÂ
Hope gives us much needed rest
The barefoot contessa starts to speakÂ
She mentions everything that still could beÂ
And how to start up the brittle fires againÂ
Even while the world floats out to sea
Things might not be how you remember themÂ
But nothing should ever stay the sameÂ
Change is constant and it’s not a race
It might however be a game
There might be echoes of a mariachi bandÂ
You’ll get there in plenty of good timeÂ
There might be the sounds of castanetsÂ
And taco shells are playing outta rhyme
Annabelle is talking to meÂ
like I’m some kinda Chinaman
She sounds like she’s got a plum
rolling around in her mouth
She pretentious and an alcoholicÂ
She’s a pseudo intellectual too
This isn’t old Blighty, baby
Just remember that you’re going on 52
Sometimes I think about hungry Ana
And if she’s finally getting enoughÂ
Did all I could until it got too easyÂ
Sorry but I just couldn’t give you my love
I might have been many thingsÂ
But some things I could never be
Only alcohol ever changed my moods
And made me someone that wasn’t me
Never wanted to hurt anyoneÂ
I guess that was part of the problemÂ
Trying to please everyone except myselfÂ
Never knowing how low I had fallen
Thought I would never lose youÂ
But I did and I took it hard
Tried to lose myself going with the flowÂ
But nothing could ever break the fall
I tried to stay together and tried to stay realÂ
But we were playing co-starring rolesÂ
Don’t know where things went so off the tracksÂ
Don’t know how we ended up in a hole
I was guilty but I was loyalÂ
I thought that was good enoughÂ
But then everything became mixed upÂ
And relevance became just fluff