San Tropez

As I reach for a peach slide a rind down behind the sofa in San Tropez,
Breaking a stick with a brick on the sand riding a wave in the wake of an old sedan.

Sleeping alone in the drone of the darkness,
Scratched by the sand that fell from our love,
Deep in my dreams and I still hear her calling,
If you're alone I'll come home.

Backwards and home bound the pidgeon the dove,
Gone with the wind and the rain on an airplane,
Owning a home with no silver spoon I'm drinking champaigne like a big tycoon.

Sooner than wait for a break in the weather,
I'll gather my far-flung thoughts together,
Speeding away on a wind to a new day,
If your alone I'll come home.

And I pause for a while by a country style and listen to things they say,
Digging for gold in the hoe in my hand hoping they'll take a look at the way things stand.

And you're leading me down to the place by the sea,
I hear your soft voice calling to me,
Making a date for later by phone,
And if you're alone I'll come home.