(Michael Timmins )
Sun comes up, it’s Tuesday morning
hits me straight in the eye
guess you forgot to close the blind last night.
Oh, that’s right. I forgot. It was me.
I sure do miss the smell of black coffee in the morning,
the sound of water splashing all over the bathroom,
the kiss that you would give me even though I was sleeping,
but I kind of like the feel of this extra few feet in my bed.
Telephone’s ringing, but I don’t answer it
’cause everybody knows that good news always sleeps till noon.
Guess it’s tea and toast for breakfast again
maybe I’ll add a little TV too.
No milk! God, how I hate that.
Guess I’ll go to the corner, get breakfast from Jenny.
She’s got a black eye this morning, Jen how’d you get it?
she says, Last night, Bobby got a little bit out of hand.
Lunchtime. I start to dial your number
then I remember so I reach for something to smoke.
Anyways I’d rather listen to Coltrane
than go through all that shit again.
There’s something about an afternoon spent doing nothing.
Just listening to records and watching the sun falling.
Thinking of things that don’t have to add up to something.
And this spell won’t be broken
by the sound of keys scraping in the lock.
Maybe tonight it’s a movie
with plenty of room for elbows and knees
a bag of popcorn all to myself,
black and white with a strong female lead
and if I don’t like it, no debate, I’ll leave.
Here comes that feeling that I’d forgotten
how strange these streets feel at night
when you’re alone on them.
Each pair of eyes just filled with suggestion.
So I lower my head, make a beeline for home,
Funny, I’d never noticed
the sound the streetcars make as they pass my window
Which reminds me, I forgot to close the blind again.
Sure I’ll admit there are times when I miss you
especially like now when I need someone to hold me
but there are some things that can never be forgiven
and I just got to tell you
that I kind of like this extra few feet in my bed.