And here slip I
dragging one foot in the gutter
in the midnight echo of the shop that sells cheap radios
And there sits she
no bed, no bread, no butter
on a double yellow line
where she can park anytime
Old Lady Grey crash barrier waltzer
some only son's mother Baker Street casualty
Oh, Mr Policeman
blue shirt ballet master
Feet in sticking plaster
move the old lady on
Strange pas de deux
his Romeo to her Juliet
Her sleeping draught, his poisoned regret
No drunken bums allowed to sleep here in the crowded emptiness
Oh officer, let me send her to a cheap hotel
I'll pay the bill and make her well like hell you bloody will
No do good over kill We must teach them to be still more independent