Lisa

I heard from Lisa on the sixth day of August

She left me a message on my answering machine

When I called her right back, there was nobody answering

I heard she doesn't ever turn her phone on

She got Indian music always playing at her place

Castanets in the kitchen and marble in the hall

There's a queue of believers, disappears 'round the corner

Waiting to see if she'll turn her phone on

Lisa, oh Lisa, you're a mystical queen

A Celtic American all natural dream

I bring flowers to your temple, water to your well

The incense you burn, I remember the smell

Last time I saw Lisa, she asked me to find someone

She was telling me something without moving her lips

Lucinda Williams playing wherever I was staying

Sweet pearls of her singing falling down from the sky

She was looking for an equal from way out of town

She wanted him found by the very next day

I said that would be easy if I wasn't so tired

And this was another life, and I remembered the way

Lisa, oh Lisa, you're a mystical queen

A Celtic American all natural dream

I bring flowers to your temple, water to your well

The incense you burn, I remember the smell

So I went 'round the world on a mystical ticket

I came back with no one in the wind and the snow

I told her I'd look for a man who was someone

Like a brother and a lover and a follower for her

I know this story of Lisa isn't over

Don't know where it started or even if it did

Some things you are born with, some you grow into

Some you're always searching for, and some remain hid

Now she might be actual, mysterious, factual

Or a figment of someone you or I could know

All that is certain is the color of her curtains

And the queue of believers and the Canadian snow

Lisa, oh Lisa, you're a mystical queen

A Celtic American all natural dream

I bring flowers to your temple, water to your well

The incense you burn, I remember the smell

I heard from Lisa on the sixth day of August