Tomorrow's just going to be there. . . it will have no room for what I'm feeling tonight. And right now there's not even enough room for a solid explanation. . . . my clothes have gotten lose, I'm craving another cheap cigar, "Desolation Row" just ended and that's the end of that record.
Everyone's supposed to be able to see Mars tonight, but when I looked out I couldn't find it, I just stood out there barefoot, staring at the mist-covered Heavens and gave that look of "well, where are we now?" and I couldn't decide whther to reach out or turn away, as usual.
A furry smoke colored cat looked at me before padding off across the rain-denched street. . . . And right now I'm sitting at my desk next to my window, scribbling away, no words for prayer, a stack of forms to be filled out and mailed. . . .
and the point is that it's too cold for Alabama and I'm tired of pouring everything in me out into the night sky outside that damn window and I just want to lie down and sleep next to you tonight.
Stray cat moves 'cross an empty street
I went lookin' for my angel
Have ya left me behind?