Sweet November child's
Weepn'out summer smiles
Down along stretched greasy sidewalks.
In the morning gown
Moscow's letting lights,
But my mind is back to Cyprus.
Pourn' my tea aside
Breathing gasoline
Chosing streets of neverguidance.
Lookn' through onion glass
Torturn' wired violin,
But my heart is back to Cyprus.
I'll never smell that air...
Passionate memories.
And your palm so sweet in the skybreeze.
And the sun is out.
And the sea is bright.
And my love is back to Cyprus.
Yes, my soul is back to Cyprus...