This song started out as an experiment after listening to a collection of songs by Hindi score writer R.D. Burman. In fact I wasn't even sure there would be lyrics to this song. I wanted to play around with Indian sounds and some mind numbing beats. Eventually I took out the beats and most of the Indian sounds. Then the horns showed up along with gun shots and a slap shot in the chorus and the song took its form. I used a poem that I wrote a few years ago about nonsense in my mind; don't try to make sense of it, the payoff is minimal.
Best picture of the year, Ferrari and Cape Fear, meeting venus in New Orleans. Erotic, provocative thriller, Ferrari in baby blue and silver, living in New Orleans. How the mysteries disappear from this big white bad Napoleon world, how the mysteries they disappear. Sweetheart, I grow old, I write to you with my trousers rolled, there are a few things I need, Could you send some love down to New Orleans? In this city we came and we met, September our feathers were still wet, maybe this time the new look will sell, in the city we don't need a shell. In the city I sit on the wall, in this city I know I can't fall, in this city we can be friends, in this city we can pretend.
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