(Difford/Tilbrook)  

  

In the morning  

It is raining  

And umbrellas block the pavement  

In the café  

People waking  

With a cigarette and coffee  

And she sits there with her paper  

Half asleep into a picture  

In the morning  

In the morning   

It's all over  

That's another night of business  

With the punters   

On the corner  

Of estates around the river  

And she adds up all the takings  

Hid behind her wilting paper  

In the morning  



In the morning   

Soaked in bath oil  

Dressed in pink towels  

And a sweater  

Looking out at all the people  

Walking under their umbrellas  

In the morning  

There's a feeling  

Of resentment and expectance  

It's a fear that comes with working  

On the dark streets for a living  



She's attending  

To her wet hair  

At the window in the evening  

Getting ready in a short skirt  

With her stockings around her ankles  

It's a flame that gets attention  

In a darkness without light  

And the children need a cuddle  

As she walks into the light  

Of the morning