I love a man who doesn't love me
A subject for song is all he's managed to be
Sparkles and box seats will all have to wait
One ticket's better than two without you for a date
Drop me a line, fella, carry me back
To Salzburg on Sundays, Panamanian Jacks
The world's got a whistle she's ready to throw
And I've got a sweetheart who loves to move slow
Sink into art songs of hearts from the past
Recall the ovation you gave to a dame in the cast
Spill from the future an answer for me
Cultures are crying in anticipation of thee
The ocean once clamored outside of your door
The water told news of our timing and score
And somewhere in Asia I docked at the bay
To find you had finally followed your old stubborn way
Champagne is giddy and blood never bores
Send me to Russia and call me a sea-faring whore
Back in the states I could die in your arms
You could drive diesels and tell me of Taiwanese charms
Drop me a line, fella, carry me back
To Salzburg on Sunday, Panamanian Jack
The world's got a whistle she's ready to throw
And I've got a sweetheart who loves to move slow