He stands by the doors of the Rex all night
   Chain-smoking Celtas
   His eyes trouble more than one woman
   His voice is heavy and deep
   There?s dirt on the sidewalk
   And the newsboys yell
   Nothing ever changes at the Parallel
   Nothing ever changes at the Parallel
  
   There?s a girl at the Molino
   She wears a leather coat
   The dust of Barcelona
   Sticks to her heels as she walks through the door
   And he thinks ?What the hell does she come here for?
   Maybe she wants me, and that?s her way to say it
   Maybe she wants me, and that?s her way to say it
   Maybe she wants me, but who am I to tell??
  
   He bites his fingernails
   Scratches his eyebrows
   Lights another cigarette
   Watching the queens of the street
   Acting their parody of love
   And he feels like he stands by the gates of hell
   Nothing ever changes at the Parallel
   Nothing ever changes at the Parallel
  
   That girl from the Molino
   Who wears the leather coat
   Sits there rocking slowly on a chair
   Gazing dreamly at the door
   And he thinks ?What the hell ist she looking for?
   Maybe she wants me, and that?s her way to say it
   Maybe she wants me, and that?s her way to say it
   Maybe she wants me, but who am I to tell??