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In Saigon, in Saigon
The rains and sun are warm
Golden California
You're too cold, too cold
Northern California
I don't want your gold
If to be streetful
Then in Saigon, in rain
Where air's wet to the full
And becomes your home
The tree of your head
And the roofs in the rain
Talk all night but can't tell
Are we alive and wet
Or long gone and dead
Golden California
You're too cold, too cold
Northern California
And your blinding gold
wlodzimierz holsztynski ©
1991-april