Albany NY
This town is dead and I don't want to be here
I want to be there with you instead
It may sound profound
But things don't mean as much to me when you're not around
It's the price I've gotta pay
A minute on the phone for one dollar ninety
And twenty five cents for a letter, well
That ain't much better
And memories of days spent together
Are free
But they're only poor substitutes for the real thing
I lie awake at night
I toss and turn, I burn, staring at the ceiling
Feeling a sense of loss inside
Like someone's died
And
this town's still dead and I don't want to be here
I want to be there with you instead
© Mike Ferguson & Robert Watson 2000