Lyrics
We're drawing pictures
on the sidewalk
with Crayola ink-black pens
that stain the soles of passersby
who shall now know
where they've been
And I can draw a picture
of the outline of your face
It's the interior expressions
That appear so out of place
Main street people in
Main street clothes with
Main street words write
Main street prose
That melts into the coffee
that you sip into your mind
I wonder if your
scattered thoughts
are of the mainstreet kind?
And I could draw a picture
of the outline of your face,
It's the interior expressions
That appear so out of place
So clouds at night
and sidewalk dance
have faded to fatigue
in a quiet house with
Dreamstuff
Flashing blue
from a TV
I think I shall
remember this
for some time now to come
I wonder to your sleeping face:
Am I the only one?