A dreamer of pictures, I run in the night: you [can] see us together, chasing the moonlight – my cinnamon girl.

I wanna live with a cinnamon girl; I can be happy the rest of my life with a cinnamon girl.

When we were living together, I thought that I knew you would stay. Still, when you left me, I tried to pretend we could make it some way.

See the drunkard of the village falling on the street: [he] can’t tell his ankles from the rest of his feet. He loves his old laughing lady ’cause her taste is so sweet, but his laughing lady’s loving ain’t the kind he can keep.

I’ve been looking for a woman to save my life, not to beg or to borrow.  A woman with the feeling of losing once or twice – who knows how could it be tomorrow?

What if she came to me -  would she be kind? And if she stayed with me – do you think that she’d like to do anything I would, or would she leave me?

Love lost, such a cost: give me things that don’t get lost, like a coin that won’t get tossed [while] rolling home to you.

[...]

But [now] I’m all alone at last, rolling home to you.

Old man, look at my life: twenty-four and there’s so much more. Live alone in a paradise, that makes me think of two.

Old man, take a look at my life: I’m a lot like you; I need someone to love me the whole day through. Ah, one look in my eyes and you can tell that’s true.

Woke up this morning with love in mind. It was raining outside, but my love still shined: kept me warm till my plane touched the sky.