I kept the little French girl tucked behind my eyelids.
Three times to the hour 'till her glass reached the bottom.
And come around the time that she turned around the corner.
The days till I get gone became twice as long.
Oh she's something line a whisper
through the Friday evening noise.
Though we never got to talking
and though I never heard her voice I know that melody she's singing.
I hear it in the missing wind.
It leaves me standing in the emptiness
of something that never did begin.
I left that dirty bedroom stained into my day clothes.
One time from my own love and one time from another.
And come the shadow morning I called upon my old friends.
They rearranged their faces and payed out at the counter.
Oh it was something like a whisper
through the Friday evening noise.
Though we should have got to talking
and though I should have used my voice.
There's that melody we're singing.
I miss it in the leper wind.
It leaves me standing in the emptiness of something
that never should begin.