Sons of Cain Are Abel - Peter Sarstedt

We had this fine old place in the country

Where we grew melancholy on the lawn

Torn between our Sunday worlds

We had girl there who rode a motorcycle

Moving at ninety miles an hour

Towering six feet black

Yes we all used to wonder what was happening

When we danced half naked in the night

Right or wrong we carried on

The sons of Cain yeah ooh

The sons of Cain yeah ooh

The sons of Cain

Are Abel

We never had such a thing as conversation

We used to stare so blindly caring not

What was eating at our brains

There is a torchlight face I will remember

That even I couldn’t pass off as a joke

Broken token drowning slow

We had a half starved poet writing nothing

He used to blurt something out

Then scratch his head

Felt the sickness ruefully

The sons of Cain yeah ooh

The sons of Cain and only ooh

The sons of Cain

Are Abel

As I was walking slowly through the lovely garden

And someone’s sick homosexual half world

Twirled around it maybe love

And then when God made summer into autumn

Just like the leaves everyone began to fall

All, was empty I left too

The sons of Cain yeah ooh

The sons of Cain and only ooh

The sons of Cain

Are Abel

The sons of Cain yeah ooh

The sons of Cain and only ooh

The sons of Cain

Are Abel