She left me last night for Budapest
Quixote, the don himself, or anyone
But me, her hat told me she was best
Emptied out my life, she asked did I have a gun?
Rolling in on a dime she was right on time
Silver dollar accounting marked it down like she was late
Don’t holler Bill, make her change, tardy’s not a crime
Besides, waiting for her is something to appreciate.
In a broken world hopeless turns our page
Hugs a boy unable to hug back feeling
Everyday love erases what might be rage
Her opal eyes are like the dawning of believing.
She returned last night from Budapest
Her quixotic boy loves no one else but her
And me? Her hat was right she is the best
Come to save me like an answered prayer.