| The night my baby left me I crossed the bridge to Juarez avenue
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| Like that movie «Touch of evil» I got the Orson Wells,
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| Marlene Dietrich blues
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| Where Orson walks in to the whore house and
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| Marlene says «Man, you look like hell»
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| And Orson’s chewing on a chocolate bar
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| As the lights go on in the old Blue Star hotel
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| «Read my future» says old Orson, «down inside the tea leaves of your cup»
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| And she says «You ain’t got no future, Hank,
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| I believe your future’s all used up»
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| Why don’t you touch me anymore? |
| Why don’t you touch me anymore?
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| Why do you run away and hide? |
| You know it hurts me deep inside
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| Why do you close the bedroom door? |
| This is a brutal little war
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| What good is all this fightin' for if you don’t touch me anymore?
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| They shot «A touch of evil» in a Venice, California colony
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| And I grew near those dead canals
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| Where they filmed the longest pan shot ever made
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| Now I’m thinking about the movie,
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| the bar I’m in, the bridge, the Rio Grande
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| Now I’m thinking about my baby and the borderline 'tween a woman and a man
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| I was drunk as Orson Wells the night I crawled backwards out the door
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| I was screaming «Baby, baby how come you touch me anymore?»
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| Oh, someone rolled the credits on twenty years of love turned dark and raw
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| Not a technicolor love film, it’s a brutal document, it’s film noir
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| And it’s all played out on a borderline and the actors
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| are tragically miscast
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| Like a Mexican burlesque show where the characters are wearing comic masks
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| Oh, it’s love and love alone I cry to the barmen in this Juarez waterhole
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| As we raise a glass to Orson and «A touch of evil» livin' our souls |