“Sovereign of emerald streets
I pray for pagan signs
I dredge the ancient sea
To stave your afterlife
My posture’s at your strings
Too much of coded sighs
I’d like to see you in the night
We belong to European Moons
We belong to Spanish dust highways
We shall go and tremble into the fire
We shall go to hotels in the sky
I slept at vacancies
Old Porter felt for me
I collect half-life joints
Down by the boulevard
I stumble ‘round the station
Kowtow to neon priests
They christen me inside their eyes
We belong to European Moons
We belong to Spanish dust highways
We shall go and tremble into the fire
We succomb to hotels in the sky
I have a mind to be beside you
Now, there’s no life at the station
The buses sing like dread
I fake to go some place
But I ain’t been nowhere
You came from bygone places
My what a show you’ve made
And now it’s only you and I
We belong to European Moons
We belong to Spanish dust highways
We shall go and tremble into the fire
We succomb to hotels in the sky
I have a mind to be beside you
“
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