Well, I've sung out one more evening,
And I'm wrung out, feeling beat.
I walk on out the door once more
To an empty city street.
A Good guitar will serve you well
When you're living in the lights
But it's never going to warm you
In the middle of the night.
And so I come and go with her in whispers.
Each and every time she says she dies.
When she is reborn again
I kiss her.
And the baby never cries.
She works in the daytime,
She leave her baby with a friend.
I sing every evening,
I only see her now and then.
I come to her at midnight,
When 'bout half the world's asleep,
And she puts me back together,
In the hours before I leave.
Her apartment is down on Perry Street,
There's a tree in her backyard.
Her old man had left her,
He just took off for the coast,
And I caught her on the rebound
When I needed her the most.
Writer(s): Harry F. Chapin
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