I see San Antonio burning
Through the barred station window
I see angels on boats beating trumpets of gold
In the sky above the old rodeo

As I roll off my prison matress
And I drink from the station house ink
I can see that blotter in the water
With my name bleeding newspaper ink

She was long white legs and diamonds
I was a Long Island liar in black
I should have known as we walked through the World’s Fair
That she died with a knife in the back

Doc, O doc, I need my morphine
As the guard drags his keys across the bars
I can see Mr. Pain beyond the window frame
In empty golden hills beyond the stars

I see San Antonio burning
Through the barred station window
I see angels on boats beating trumpets of gold
In the sky above the old rodeo