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