Magdalena

Magdalena
(Danny O’Keefe)

Magdalena sits in a chair speaking of the Mass
She talks in slicing splinters, she laughs like breaking glass
She says that she would have me spirit her away
Stealing all my images, till there’s nothing left to say

But, Oh, Magdalena
Nothing like a saint you are
Your love is like a razor
My heart is just a scar
Oh, Magdalena
Nothing like a saint you are

She tells me that she wants me
Then she tells me not to bother
She tells me that I couldn’t hold
A candle to her father

She knows that she’s got me
When I start to rave about
She’ll just smile and flash her eyes
And blow the candle out

Magdalena lying there
Could make a dancer stumble
Make a preacher bite his tongue
And leave him with a mumble

And if you think I’m crazy, babe
Or that I’m funnin’ you
Just pay your dues and lose your blues
When she gets her tongue in you

I can be forgotten and I can be ignored
You’ll find me with my poems and my songs
But if upon your journey you’re returning from LA
Won’t you bring that little red-haired girl along?

© © 1973 Road Canon Music / Cotillion Music(BMI)