| Farewell Angelina
|
| the bells on the crown
|
| Are being stolen by bandits
|
| I must follow the sound
|
| The triangle tingles
|
| And the music plays slow
|
| But farewell Angelina
|
| The night is on fire
|
| And I must go There is use in talking
|
| And there’s no need for blame
|
| There is nothing to prove
|
| Everything still is the same
|
| A table stands empty
|
| By the edge of the stream
|
| But farewell Angelina
|
| The sky is changing colors
|
| And I must leave
|
| The jacks and the queens
|
| They foresake the courtyard
|
| Fifty-two gypsies
|
| Now file past the guard
|
| In the space where the deuce
|
| And the ace once ran wild
|
| Farewell Angelina
|
| The sky is folding
|
| I’ll see you after a while
|
| See the crosseyed pirates
|
| Sit perched in the sun
|
| Shooting tin cans
|
| With a sawed off shot gun
|
| And the corporals and the neighbors
|
| Clap and cheer with each blast
|
| But farewell Angelina
|
| The sky is trembling
|
| And I must leave fast
|
| King Kong, little elves
|
| And the roof-tops they dance
|
| Valentino-type tangos
|
| While the heroes clean hands
|
| Shut the eyes of the dead
|
| Not to embarass anyone
|
| Farewell Angelina
|
| The sky is flooding over and I must be gone
|
| The camoflaged parrot
|
| He flutters from fear
|
| When something he doesn’t know about
|
| Suddenly appears
|
| What cannot be imitated
|
| Perfect must die
|
| Farewell Angelina
|
| The sky is flooding over
|
| And I must go where it is dry
|
| Machine guns are roaring
|
| The puppets heave rocks
|
| At misunderstood visions
|
| And at the faces of clocks
|
| Call me any name you like
|
| I will never deny it But farewell Angelina
|
| The sky is errupting
|
| And I must go where it is quiet |