It's late December the new years never coming
Time passes slowly in a two room walk up flat
The sun is silent
As a cold rain gonna come on
No one to talk to
But my lady's yellow cat
Rain drops talling on the flowers
In the window box
Plastic roses that I planted yesterday
I didn't think it does too soon
But there all withered now
Seems like everything I touch
Turns out that way

Well I guess I'll just go walking
The cats no good tor talkin'to
He are don't know what I'm saying
And the rain is always
Playing on my mind
On my mind

Street lights driring through the blinds
That cover window panes
Blending soflly with the bare lights over head
Then together
They run swiflly through my memory
And every image of a strange and empty bed

Copyright: BMG Rights Management
Writer(s): STEVE FROMHOLZ