|
(difford/tilbrook) |
|
In the morning |
|
It is raining |
|
And umbrellas block the pavement |
|
In the caf?People waking |
|
With a cigarette and coffee |
|
And she sits there with her paper |
|
Half asleep into a picture |
|
In the morning |
|
In the morning |
|
It's all over |
|
That's another night of business |
|
With the punters |
|
On the corner |
|
Of estates around the river |
|
And she adds up all the takings |
|
Hid behind her wilting paper |
|
In the morning |
|
In the morning |
|
Soaked in bath oil |
|
Dressed in pink towels |
|
And a sweater |
|
Looking out at all the people |
|
Walking under their umbrellas |
|
In the morning |
|
There's a feeling |
|
Of resentment and expectance |
|
It's a fear that comes with working |
|
On the dark streets for a living |
|
She's attending |
|
To her wet hair |
|
At the window in the evening |
|
Getting ready in a short skirt |
|
With her stockings around her ankles |
|
It's a flame that gets attention |
|
In a darkness without light |
|
And the children need a cuddle |
|
As she walks into the light |
|
Of the morning |