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"Crawl across towards your window
I'm calling softly from the street
always a lonely widow,
half-awake and sleeping on my feet.
I'm of age but have no children,
no quarter phone booth calls to home,
just late with television
inside my bedroom all alone.
Ooohhh ahh ohhh ohhh ohhh
There is no use in waiting
offer up your steps so I can climb,
show me all your figure paintings
etched in the middle of the night.
Let me stretch upon your carpet,
let me hear the rain tap on your street
knowing I am safe on the inside
blankets wrapped and drift