Dusty streets stare at me
Looking like a daytime nightmare
I should shave, try to save
Something of the man that's still there
Not much left to say
Of the man who stayed in Monterey
The stucco stores' open doors
Gape across the square and wonder
As this mans trembling hands
Tilt the bag his bottles under
Things are looking grey
For the man who stayed in Monterey
Honey, darling, sweetheart
Precious angel, little dove
The man you left is looking pretty grim
Hypnotising, paralysing wine is my new love
Cause it makes your memory soft and dim
Now I walk from the park
Bleary eyed and droopy shouldered
Scruffy shoes, flopping loose
I know I'm looking tired and older
One more empty day
For the man who stayed in Monterey
Photographs in my lap
Sparkling colours rush up to me
From the page, brown with age
All these things I keep are truly
Flowers on the grave
Of the man who stayed in Monterey
Flowers on the grave
Of the man who stayed in Monterey