Walking through the streets of Amsterdam Half a pack of kreteks in my hand The rain smells like a woman That I knew long ago And I hope she's happy Hope she's doin' grand The cyclones never seem to get this far They die out off the shores of Zanzibar And at night I watch the storm clouds Lighting up the sea And I wonder if she ever thinks of me
Madalena There's something in the way you held me But there's not much left To hold onto anymore I'm older now My hair is turning gray A fixture at this crumbling café And I'm haunted by the memories Of the man I used to be ‘Cause he took your love And threw it all away And Madalena…