Madalena

Walking through the streets of Amsterdam

Half a pack of kreteks in my hand

The rain smells like a woman

That I knew long ago

And I hope she’s happy

Hope she’s doin’ grand

The cyclones never seem to get this far

They die out off the shores of Zanzibar

And at night I watch the storm clouds

Lighting up the sea

And I wonder if she ever thinks of me

Madalena

There’s something in the way you held me

But there’s not much left

To hold onto anymore

I’m older now

My hair is turning gray

A fixture at this crumbling café

And I’m haunted by the memories

Of the man I used to be

‘Cause he took your love

And threw it all away

And Madalena…