'With one night in a cheap motel over the bridge and I knew it then in New Jersey Hoboken, having splashed our last few dollars on beer but I wasn't drunk, looking out at all the worn faces just like mine, the charity in desperation, only the poor give, only the poor can truly love. The lost kiddies......more
'With one night in a cheap motel over the bridge and I knew it then in New Jersey Hoboken, having splashed our last few dollars on beer but I wasn't drunk, looking out at all the worn faces just like mine, the charity in desperation, only the poor give, only the poor can truly love. The lost kiddies who walk that path with down slanted looks, their sloping walk, oh every child under this sun should be able to sing to his heart's content, to lament his overbearing freedom, the disintegration of it all is all just a misinterpreted dream, everyone in their secret sadness wants nothing more than to just get along, simply, uncomplicated...compassion and joy and love in all their heart's heaviness...how unbearable be the weight of an unfulfilled love. In the red morning mist of New Jersey, we awoke in the airport ready to board our flight, dreaming of England and her distant white shores'(less)
