Broken glass outside from the window pane
Someone’s talking to me inside in the rain
The gypsy sleeper boy is unmoved by the strain
And I would leave you but I never could catch a train

Sweet leaves from the eastern shore
Gives relief when my mind is sore
But it’s not what I’m looking for
It must be in the wind
Or even in a child.

My woman starts crying to me
And I never could find out why
So I think I’ll stop trying to
Because some things I don’t understand
The life of a writer is sinking real low
But when you’re not a fighter
Then it’s a place to go

Now don’t get me wrong
Cause it’s not a downer
I know I’m not strong
But I’ve found her
I was halfway
But I was drifting
Now I’m nowhere
But I’m lifting