The man who owned the heartache
That lived on the stairs
Passed me in the night whistling "Memories of You" . . .
I stared, too frightened to move
For fear y eyes shone a light
On the darkness he drew like a cloak
All around his shoulders . . .
And the church on the corner
Marked the time for the mother
Who was giving birth to a child across the hall . . .
And I waited, half in anger, half in sadness
For an answer to the call for help
I had written on the wall.
And the rain fell like jewels
On the heads of all the fools
Who wandered crazed with their souls ablaze for me . . .
And the blessing of the hour
Was the twilight and the tower
With it's golden bell from the bottom of the sea . . .
And the moon through the window of the bedroom
Where lovers slumbered,
Made a silver dance of such dust beneath the bed . . .
And I waited for a moment in the lamplight,
Crystal gazing,
Listening to their hearts
And the changing of their breath