Ca** McCombs - Tourist Woman lyrics

For Tourist Woman, the itching is turning to fever and then to form For Tourist Woman, insecurities are bunk-pollen for the swarm And vice-versa, the swarm, turning to fury, captures a prisoner Tourist Woman is unhappy with the meager conditions they have given her From Oxford to UCLA to empoverished streets of a Bengali village T.W. fights for nothing, believes in nothing, except an image The image in her mind is of vague origin of, mostly, western result Somewhat pyramid, somewhat cross, somewhat a mongrel cult Like the old man Who slept his life away Romantics are doomed (and that's a good thing)