Six euro coins in my pocket i flew to cádiz to start over & realized i ran out of money i went to the socialist hostel & said that i'd work for a room but by noon my throat was all up in knives & i wandered the streets immune to the paella & tortilla i'd come back for a fever was catching in my shoulders i stumble to the maleçon uncontrollably sobbing i'm looking into the sea & i'm wondering if i can beg a man pa**es by with his daughter & i scare her with mad grief in my eyes i am crying for everything a call to western union for leaving you in london & for wanting to have some kind of home i have here the calling card number memorized it's a vice ‘round my brain when you pick up the phone you whisper ‘cause i left you suddenly you shouldn't let your mama hear you go upstairs to your room shut the door & i ask you with a mouthful of tears for you to say baby to me like you would & if you can buy me a ticket back to you