Keen. Addicted.
She drinks alone in the bar
Holding a glass in her hand.
Vanilla smoke, whiskey jar
Were everything that she had.
She walks alone down the street
With nobody to converse.
She knew that they wouldn't meet.
The weather is getting worse.
And she has nowhere to go.
She's terrified by her room
By emptiness at her home.
There is just nothing to do.
He sits alone in his flat
Spending his time on guitar.
He knows that they haven't met
Because his love is too far.
And while he spends his time there
Being weak and confused
He dreams that once he'll share
His inspiration with muse.
But he is too tired to seek
Her in this rainy town.
He drinks hot tea, he is sick
Of silence and lonely sound.
Holding a glass in her hand.
Vanilla smoke, whiskey jar
Were everything that she had.
She walks alone down the street
With nobody to converse.
She knew that they wouldn't meet.
The weather is getting worse.
And she has nowhere to go.
She's terrified by her room
By emptiness at her home.
There is just nothing to do.
He sits alone in his flat
Spending his time on guitar.
He knows that they haven't met
Because his love is too far.
And while he spends his time there
Being weak and confused
He dreams that once he'll share
His inspiration with muse.
But he is too tired to seek
Her in this rainy town.
He drinks hot tea, he is sick
Of silence and lonely sound.
