Alina Simone


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Sunday night, by subway light
But the train is still far away
You said you'd come
By now everyone is drinking wine
From paper cups…
Are you lonesome tonight
Do you feel a little achy
I don't think you have a fever,
But I don't know…you do seem cold.
It's like black, black, black, black
Black cars you can't see into.
Leaving you wondering
And waiting on the curb
With all their little secrets
So keep on running from the winter
But you can't help missing the snow
And all these unfamiliar people
Who can't ever go back home
Who can't ever go back home

Autor(es): Alina Simone