Drinking black market vodka in the back of the Scottsman's saloon. Then it's red meat and whiskey like a coyote drunk on the moon. Outside in Oslo the buskers' all sing the same tune.
Out on the freight line there's an old hobo camp. Where a drunk man lay sleepin' in a ragged old tram. And the lines on his face mark a life on the run.
Barcelona is a woman's town women everywhere. Barcelona is a woman's eyes, raven gypsy hair. I got drunk in Barcelona and then she walked away from me.