Isdal Woman

Excuse me miss, what are you doing
Way out in these hills?
All dressed up for a day in the city
In fine Italian fashion with those bottles of sleeping pills
Fine Italian fashion with those bottles of sleeping pills

And who are those two men behind you
Wearing black coats and sinister grins?
Their menacing walk, their nefarious gate
The clandestine deathmarch of the penguins begins

And as you pass beside me
Your face distorted by fear
Your quivering lips tried to form the words
That I couldn't make out, I'm so sorry dear

Were they soothing lullabies
Or sensitive state secrets?

I found your suitcase on a train car
Full of postcards and monogrammed spoons
Five hundred Deutsche Marks stuffed in the liner
And Fine italian clothes with all the labels removed
Fine italian clothes with all the labels removed

I followed your trail of crumbs back to Norway
Room 407 Hotel Marin
You ordered porridge for breakfast and ate at the balcony
All paid in cash and left no fingerprints

And in your passport photos
Your face a fragile veneer
Are you Vera or Julia, Anna, Elizabeth?
A smuggler, an escort, or antiques dealer?

Were they useful alibis?
All part of the tradecraft

But all you do is run in circles
I will chase you down the rabbit hole
And when you come up to the surface
They'll erase you from their totem pole