There Was a Man

The man with the shadows, on his face sits in a chair

Calls the cobwebs lace

Behind his painted smile, the desert looms for miles in Casablanca.



In the millhouse, another man spirals 'round

Now and then and after

He drinks from a pitcher of warm spit but it's his so it doesn't matter in Casablanca.



The boys in the blue brass choir sing old tunes with their boots

And a heavy beat

And when the song is done, Jesus lies bleeding in the streets of Casablanca.



The man with the shadows, on his face sits in a chair

Calls the cobwebs lace

Behind his painted smile, the desert looms for miles in Casablanca

In Casablanca, in Casablanca, in Casablanca ...