He bites his fingernails
Scratches his eyebrows
Lights another cigarette
Watching the queens of the street
Acting their parody of love
And he feels like he stands by the gates of hell
Nothing ever changes at the Parallel
Nothing ever changes at the Parallel
That girl from the Molino
Who wears the leather coat
Sits there rockin' slowly on a chair
Gazing dreamly at the door
And he thinks: "What the hell is she looking for?
Maybe she wants me, and that's her way to say it?
Maybe she wants me, and that's her way to say it?
Maybe she wants me, but who am I to tell?"
©