She came from the south, straight into my kitchen Head fucked and filled with doubt And without a point of direction She felt sad and I was counting the beats of my heart One, two three, four.... Untill it broke She said its like a tropic of cancer And I'm pretty sure she stole it from a Henry Miller novel A book he wrote in France? In Paris in the thirties I guess She cried And still she moves my way And still she comes my way She cried: 'Why do I always hurt the ones I love' Its like an Elvis in the soul High above me A deep and intense fear High above me Her hands healing High above me And it started coming down Yeah, it started coming down, now. And still she moves my way And still she comes my way With those stealing eyes She got stealing eyes There's an illness in my soul There's an illness in my soul There's a fever in my mind The disease is in my bones The disease is....... It gets to you in the deep of the night And still she comes my way When you are sad and lonely And even the touch of her Fingertips on your elbow would do And even the sounds of her footsteps in the hall would do And even her breath on my face would do Everything would do you know Now she dances around that hall And I've seen her wearing that dress before It's a tropic of cancer In the soul