Midnight not a sound from the pavement
Has the moon lost her memory?
In the lamplight, the withered leaves collect at my feet
And the wind begins to moan
Memory, All alone in the moonlight
I can dream of the old days
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again
Every streetlamp seems to beat
Someone mutters and the street lamp gutters
I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life
Tonight will be a memory too
Burnt out ends of smoky days
The stale cold smell of morning
A streetlamp dies; another night is over
Another day is dawning...
All alone with the memory
If you touch me, you'll understand what happiness is
Look, a new day has begun. More from Barbara Dickson