[Intro] [Instrumental Acoustic Guitar] A tiny room, a wrinkled bed, Soft old mattresses — no sleep ahead. The bulb grows weary, flickers gold, The ceiling’s silent tales grow cold. A Monet copy on the wall, Its broken frame — alone, that’s all. The London fog creeps in like lore, Sit in the chair — blue lies galore. [Instrumental Acoustic Guitar] A plastic curtain hides the light, Tape soothes thought-arthritis tight. Above the dresser, hangs a cross, Oh Mother Love, how great your loss! Time, let’s play? But clocks can’t cheat. Her granddaughter’s eyes — so blue, so sweet. [Instrumental Klezmer Violin] [End]
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