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There was a girl behind the counter |
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Who would give away her smile |
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Your could stand and watch her from the stationery aisle |
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I found myself returning everyday after awhile |
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For the torture that I knew would be in store |
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Then I was kept away for a week or maybe two |
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The wind came off the lake |
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And drove the pigeons from the zoo |
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I finally made it back to that familiar avenue |
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I shivered as I pushed in through the door |
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She doesn't work here anymore |
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The clerk explained to me as he swept the floor |
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I always meant to talk to her before |
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She doesn't work there anymore |
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A blizzard after midnight |
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Blankets everything with snow |
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Esalators empty out their cargo down below |
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This city swallows people |
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And they never even know |
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Or if they do it's easy to ignore |
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I used to like to think that I might see her on the El |
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My thoughts would turn to words |
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Would turn to crutches as we fell |
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But there are few surprises |
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When you know yourself too well |
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There is nothing else in store |
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She doesn't work here anymore |
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I should have talked to her before |
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I wonder what it was I waited for |
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She doesn't work there anymore |
