© Apr 1998 Flying Stone
Walkin' down a lonesome street, nobody's livin' there.
The windows dark, the doors all closed, no laughter anywhere.
I feel so cold, pain in my heart. Where are You gone?
Are You well or are You down? I do not know!
Show me Your face, Your hands! Look into my eyes!
Tell me the sto--ry of Your days and of Your nights.
Sitting in a dirty pub, men smokin', drinkin' beer.
The lamps are low, the glasses blind. For what the hell am I here?
I dream of You every night. What do You feel?
Is it hateress, is it love? I wonna know!
Yes, I am deeply impressed of some people whom I meet.
I love their work, need their help, spend lot of time with them.
I beg You so: Please forgive what I have done!
I'll try to do better from now. Please gimme a chance!