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We looked toward the woman
And my face burned red, blushing
When she asked me the questions
Are you ever alone?
Are you younger or older?
I held her close
In my thoughts some way wanting
In spite of the sorrow
My tensing in terror
On the strip of Ventura
With the tin barrels burning under a halo of moonlight
When the hour was lonely
It was the way that she touched me
Her arm on the window
And the way she said: Baby
And the way she said: Baby
