The Morning Blues

These streets have not known the sun

And this girl has not known love

She waits under the tilia tree every morning

Right at six


I watch her

Strolling over rooftops

A cigarette in my hand

And me, bound for bed


We talked about love last night

Politics always goes to love

And that one old rag drinking himself to death

A lesson on what happens when you let her get away


She waits still

And the cigarette has burned out

I turn around and head uptown

Let her wait

Love is sweeter when you do not get it back