| The subway station’s closed again
|
| Sleeps beneath its veil of rain
|
| my footprints broken trail behind
|
| Steals the nightlights from my mind
|
| The dark deserted streets then clear
|
| Today has lived and died in here
|
| So I leave the chapel gloom
|
| To find the shelter of my tiny room
|
| But it’s alright while the lights of the city shine so bright
|
| It’s all right till the last winding train fades from sight
|
| Then alone in my room I must stay to lose or win
|
| While these wild bedsitter images come back to hem me in The panneled patens (patterns?) on the door
|
| chase shivering shadows to the floor
|
| Upon the pillow worn and thin
|
| the memories of hopes begin
|
| the carpet with its flowers and shredding
|
| spires a foot before my bed
|
| the crack that won’t return again
|
| advancing through my broken window pane
|
| But it’s alright while the lights of the city shine so bright
|
| It’s all right till the last winding train fades from sight
|
| Then alone in my room I must stay to lose or win
|
| While these wild bedsitter images come back to hem me in The friends I’ve left back home all write
|
| with laughing words that warm my sight
|
| saying «Tell us, how’s the city life?»
|
| I reply and say just fine (why?)
|
| and so you see I can’t go back
|
| until I either win or crack
|
| I’m standing in a one way street
|
| The stage is set
|
| The story incomplete
|
| But it’s alright while the lights of the city shine so bright
|
| It’s all right till the last winding train fades from sight
|
| Then alone in my room I must stay to lose or win
|
| While these wild bedsitter images come back to hem me in |