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I asked her in for a cup of coffee
She said she’d have one, but one to go
She seemed so restless, seemed in a hurry
So I asked her if I could at least walk her home
She said: “I don’t really see the purpose
Because it’s neither rain nor snow
And frankly I don’t really care for too much conversation anyhow”
She had a rucksack on her back
With everything she owned
A few rags and a little yellow book
Just some bible of sorts that she had written on her own
From which she quoted from dusk ‘til the early, early morn
Found a room down in the city
We checked in at the Dolphin’s hotel
It didn’t cost much – The view was pretty
The wine was OK, as far as we could tell
Then we tried to make love
She had a hurricane mind
But our hearts were not in it
Thoughts would drift off all the time
She said: “You’re too kind a guy to make my butterflies fly”
She wasn’t much of a lover
Well, then neither was I
I was back on the street long before she woke up
It was raining and already getting dark
A hand in the pocket where I kept my money
They were all gone, but I found her yellow book
So I went back to her hotel
It was getting pretty late
She said. “I knew you would be coming
Chapter 6, verse 3-8”
Seems her homemade religion and some cheap hotel wine
Was enough to keep us stranded there for yet another night