Queenstown Lane

Lonely eyes and lonely heart,
The call is sent but hard to get.
There's a piano player and a gypsy boy
And a pint of beer and a hung guitar.

The light is dim and the voice is feeble,
She reads her book and she avoids the eyes
Of gamblers looking through their funny faces.
The music within her, but stage so far.

"No matter how hard you try,
World needs no poems nor deep sound."
It's hard to say and hard to think
That all you have are shattered dreams.

No path is drawn.
Streets are a safe home.
Tomorrow is just a word.
And winter's almost gone.

Lonely hands and lonely eyes,
The voice is raising, there's a ray of light.
He won't believe in what you say,
So pack your words and run away.

The road is long and hard to walk.
You'll meet crazy ramblers and some friendly boys
Who believe in all the words they say
And sell their thoughts in amusing ways.

"No matter how hard we try,
World needs no poets nor deep thoughts."
But soon when their dreams will be gone,
They'll look for you in a old fashioned song.

Their path is drawn.
But you're a rebel soul.
Freedom's not just a word.
And spring is almost gone.