and your heart is full of weeds
The city of your father's coat,
Charlotte rubs the flower she
Her children all are grown now,
and she's too proud to beg
and your brother's sick and gone
The sun seeks his uniqueness to
show that he can break the mold
You have worked their factories
and you have tilled their fields
You have lived their fantasies to find
Spanish plains, the hills of
Sleeping in the olive groves of sunny
The mills now lie frozen,
Wise men write about this place,
There are mountains made of marble
Old masters carved up perfect gods
but couldn't set them free
Far out in the distance are the
lives that can't be proved
Ooh, with eyes made for seeing
everything but with mousetrap
Close by the smells of treachery,
the lovers and their seeds
They look so sick and beautiful,
but they say what they need
Spanish plains, the hills of
Sleeping in a yellow carousel,
See the mother and the child,
they're waiting in the streams
He's pointing to the flowers and
she's pointing to her wings
When she was a virgin, once she even tried
To jump off of a mountain
Which I know I wish I couldn't fly
The troops are on vacation
Now they're heading for the sun
With passports and their credit cards
Their orders and their guns
The bullies breathe in fire
The matador keeps watching
The stakes keep getting higher,
Spanish plains, the hills of
Sleepin' in the alley of the road