Strange avenues where you lose all sense of direction

and everywhere is Main Street in the winter sun.

The wino sleeps -- cold coat lined with he money section.

Looking like a a record cover from 1971.



And here an I -- warm feet and the limo waiting.

Shall I make us both feel good? And would a dollar do?

But in your streets, I have no credit rating

and it might not take a lot to be alone just like you.



Heading up and out now, from your rock island.

Really good to have had you here with me.

And somewhere in the crowd I think I hear a young girl whisper

"Are you ever lonely, just like me?"





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