Midnight Through Morning

The room it was lit up, me too I couldn't sit up
Engaged was my time in studying the wall
And all the poets kept getting louder
Even though they weren't needed any longer
The strapless high heeled street walker
Believes every day that she goes younger

I wish I could be her lover
And go with her as she makes her rounds
And fall with her hair as it comes down

The poets would keep on all night with their come ons
One would say something another'd say more
Looking for contacts but finding the soap
Well I know she'd take them all as a joke
Ah but she'd take them all, no doubt
And they never knowing what it was about

I wish I could be her lover
And go with her as she makes her rounds
And fall with her hair as it comes down

With burning candle and the store window
Hard to believe there could be more
All the poets complained of the cold
But they only did just what they were told
Searching so hard for a satisfied mind
While she walked by with a satisfied soul

I wish I could be her lover
And go with her as she makes her rounds
And fall with her hair as it comes down

A radio played on to almost no one
Attention was paid only to the dawn
As she stopped and bent to touch her nylons
And felt in the air for a post to lean on
No one could ever know her outside
In the take of an instant she had passed by

Ah, I wish I could be her lover
And go with her as she makes her rounds
And fall with her hair as it comes down

Symbols and motives were again promoted
Hard to believe there could be more
As she moved on and then faded out
To the songs of the poet still keeping it up
The sidewalks cleared themselves for the new touch
And it all disappeared into the face of the clock