Year of the Cat
(Al Stewart & Peter Wood)

On a morning from a Bogart movie
In a country where they turn back time
You go strolling through the crowd
like Peter Lorre
Contemplating a crime

She comes out of the sun
in a silk dress running
Like a watercolour in the rain
Don't bother asking for explanations
She'll just tell you that she came
In the year of the cat

She doesn't give you time for questions
As she locks up your arm in hers
And you follow 'till your sense
of which direction
Completely disappears

By the blue tiled walls
near the market stalls
There's a hidden door
she leads you to
These days, she says, I feel my life
Just like a river running through
The year of the cat

Well, she looks at you so cooley
And her eyes shine like the moon in the
She comes in incense and pachouli
So you take her, to find what's waiting
The year of the cat...

Well, morning comes and you're still with
And the bus and the tourists are gone
And you've thrown away
the choice and lost your ticket
So you have to stay on

But the drum-beat strains
of the night remain
In the rhythm of the new-born day
You know sometime
you're bound to leave her
But for now you're going to stay
In the year of the cat
Al Stewart