No Love to Be Made Here Now

I'm a drunkard, I'm a loser, a talker, I'm a dreamer with conquered gray eyes
I'm a young man who sweats out the DT's, there's no love to be made here now
I had a girl with no eyes but for Paris and a man with with an antique bassoon
And while she pulls at my heart strings for the lack of fresh blood, there's no love to be made here now
Last call, drink up, go home fools, blinded by liquor and fear of an old life with no love, no one to hold you and tell you this love was triumphant and pure
Well, she walks with the legs of a dancer, where its forever ten minutes to two
At last call, she swoons to an old rain dog tune, there'll be love to be made here now
So I will lie here awake in my bed, until the children have all gone to play, then for two precious hours I will dream of a world where there's love to be made here now
There's love to be made here now
What of the girl in the painting, where did her dear heart go
Off in the hills with her fear and her wonder
There's no love to be made here now
Where is the boy in the plate glass, where did his body go
He gave it away to a north country harlot, there's no love to be made here now
There's no love to be made here now