The soft winds of Buenos Aires
|
Once blew into her room
|
Now all she can do is kneel and pray
|
Sangre dolce
|
Sangre dolce
|
|
She's lost in the streets
|
Lost in her thoughts
|
She's lost in the smiles of the baby all day
|
She's new in New York, dressed up like a doll
|
But broken like clay
|
Sangre dolce
|
Sangre dolce
|
|
She cries when underneath the crystal moon
|
She hears a sultry Spanish song
|
But coming from that neighborhood saloon
|
It sounds all wrong
|
|
Puts the child in the stroller
|
And walks through the park
|
"What a beautiful baby you have"
|
The women all say
|
"Thank you" she says, pretending it's hers
|
Her own is so far away
|
|
Sangre dolce
|
Sangre dolce
|
Sangre dolce...
|
|
-----------------
|
Sangre Dolce
|
| Carly Simon |
