2019 (c) Karl Strand

Where will we be?



She puts on Giant Sand and listens to Gelb                         

Looking so sad and cold and out of place                  

She’s leaving me, I know, it’s part of the show         

She won’t say but I know she wants to go                          


Oh you’re not fooling me one bit                               

I know it even if you won’t admit                              

That our hearts together have grown so cold                       

Trust me on this one, I don’t need to be told                       

So you light up a joint and your drink your wine                

And I wonder yeah, were you ever mine?                   

You look out the window, say you can’t talk to me   

I follow your gaze, but tomorrow where will we be?  

Tomorrow where will we be?                                      


She talks about a trip to South Africa, along the coast

To visit old friends and the old British trading posts

Tales of slaves, Boers and all, anything really

Anything so she won’t have to say how she feels about me