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But when I ask about Jeanette, the British-born, Spanish pop singer who might not immediately come to mind, he takes it one step further

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No, voc no pode me ter Cigarettes & Saints Twice a week I pass by the church that held your funeral And the pastor's words come pouring down like rain How he called you a sinner And said now you walk with Jesus So the drugs that took your life Aren't gonna cause you any pain I don't think he even knew your name And I refused to kneel or pray I won't remember you that way I lit you a candle in every cathedral across europe I hope you know you're still my patron saint I tried to forgive but I can't forget The cigar in his fist I know that they were heartsick But I need someone to blame And I know how they blame me I know what you'd say You'd tell me it was your fault I should put all my arrows away I'm sure there ain't a heaven But that don't mean I don't like to picture you there I'll bet you're bumming cigarettes off saints I'm sure you're still singing But I'll bet that you're still just a bit out of key With that crooked smile pushing words across your teeth Cause you were heat lightning Yeah you were a storm that never rolled in You were the northern lights in a southern town A caustic fleeting thing I'll bury your memories in the garden I'll watch them grow with the flowers in the spring I'll keep you with me These wolves in their suits and ties Saying, "kid you can trust me" Charming southern drawl, sunken eyes Buying good will in hotel lobbies They got fistfuls of pills To make sure you don't hurt no more You don't gotta feel anything Got their fangs in our veins Got their voice in our heads Got our arms in their grips No, we can't shake free This God damn machine