Lights flashing as the grit was flown
Behind a Packard, the desert sun had grown
Marie shot-gun, bombshell in a boa,
Reading up on Vogue, sipping on sangria
A weekend stop in a Spanish villa.
The lights burned, the lamp was crimson
A lonely ghost in an earthly prison, yeah
The pistol at his hip, long rusted
His bootstraps long turned to sand and dust
And he lies and waits for the girl he's lusted
He's lonely in the catacombs.
She says those nightmares,
Soaked with sweat and alone, don't mean a thing
Why's she soaked to the bone?
Come on, Maria. Until the hounds of hell are at your door,
He'll wait for you because he's lonely in the catacombs,
In the catacombs
Magazines strewn across the table
The world outside, a field of sable
Her mind, a mess,
And thoughts did clamor for safety in the latest Glamour
But now's the time, and not for manners
The grayed hand of the last bandito,
Belonged once, a man named Carlito
He paid the wind
With spurs of silver to find his love and to kindly rid her
Of what her love could only give her
He's lonely in the catacombs,
She says those nightmares,
Soaked with sweat and alone, don't mean a thing.
Why's she soaked to the bone?
Come on, Maria. Until the hounds of hell are at your door,
He'll wait for you because he's lonely in the catacombs,
In the catacombs
But if her love was to be won, what way is this?
A man who knows her heart as I, I'm sure she'll miss
The places she made her way from, the cities I could never know
A man he learns of love and still, he let's her go, yeah
He's lonely in the catacombs.
She says those nightmares,
Soaked with sweat and alone, don't mean a thing.
Why's she soaked to the bone?
Come on, Maria. Until the hounds of hell are at your door,
He'll wait for you because he's lonely in the catacombs,
In the catacombs
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