Getting Away

I tripped on the steps of the Spanish stairs
Cursing your beauty and gasping for air
You’ve got a way of getting away from me
Through vineyards and fountains, mountains of miles
Through decades of traffic, turnstiles
You’ve got a way of getting away from me
Send me a postcard, drop me a line
Why are you so hard to find?
You’re right here beside me
You’re sleeping beside me
But why are you so hard to find?
From Russia with love
From Paris with pain
From New York with roses
From London with rain
You’ve got a way of getting away from me