All Things Being the Same

She is searching for some form of salvation
In the corner of a bar down the street
But the gin controls whole conversations
And plays magic tricks with her feet...

She gets up, falls down, breaks even
Gets caught by the wrong mister right --
Hey, it's a hard town
I wouldn't want to live in it --
But I wouldn't want to give up in it
All things being the same...

Back home she's got these pictures on her mirror
They frame her when she looks back at her face
They tell her where she's been --
I'll tell you where she's going
She's got her name on a stool down at Eddie Owen's place...

She drinks when romance brings her down
Like the sight of blood is a wedding gown
Bright lights and smoke fill up this space
It's a crowded room, but still a lonely old place...

All her friends are nothing more than strangers
Whose names are just words on a face
If they bumped into her out on a sidewalk on some Sunday
They wouldn't recognize her outside of the place