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She is searching for some form of salvation |
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In the corner of a bar down the street, |
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But the gin controls whole conversations |
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And plays magic tricks with her feet... |
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She gets up, falls down, breaks even, |
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Gets caught by the wrong mister right -- |
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Hey, it's a hard town. |
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I wouldn't want to live in it -- |
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But i wouldn't want to give up in it, |
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All things being the same... |
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Back home she's got these pictures on her mirror, |
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They frame her when she looks back at her face. |
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They tell her where she's been -- |
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I'll tell you where she's going, |
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She's got her name on a stool down at eddie owen's place... |
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She drinks when romance brings her down. |
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Like the sight of blood is a wedding gown. |
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Bright lights and smoke fill up this space. |
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It's a crowded room, but still a lonely old place... |
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All her friends are nothing more than strangers, |
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Whose names are just words on a face . |
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If they bumped into her out on a sidewalk on some sunday, |
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They wouldn't recognize her outside of the place |
