The taste of blue skies
Like Frank Sinatra´s eyes
And open pools of blood
You bet they never looked so good
I´m coming home, I´m coming home
Tonight I dream, I dream of New Orleans
We´re spinning
Out of control again
But the taste of the ocean floors and time will tell,
"Yeah, yeah, yeah
Oh, baby
Maybe we´ll meet again,"
Well, get out of your car, come on kiss me

"Mechanical blades
And address books with no names,"
It´s the stories I trade
And knives wrapped in lace
Tonight I dream, I dream of New Orleans
I´m coming home, I´m coming home

We´re spinning
Out of control again
But the taste of the ocean floors and time will tell,
"Yeah, yeah, yeah
Oh, baby
Maybe we´ll meet again,"
Well, get out of your car, whore, come on kiss me

(I dream of New Orleans)
Lift your casket to the sky
I hope tonight I die
I hope tonight we die
I´m coming home

Home

Tonight I dream of New Orleans
(I got a gun in New Orleans)
Can a man witness his own funeral?
(He´s got a gun)

Tonight I dream, I dream of New Orleans

I dream of New Orleans.