ŞARKI SÖZÜ
The sun
Blowing the moon away
Lights me up for
One more day
The streets are naked
In the morning sun
The night lifts behind me
I run and run
Morning heat
Puts a thin film of sweat on my face
A little man, his eyes half closed
Puts chairs on tables
Admires his work
And collects a quarter from the floor
I head over to Broadway
Where I watch myself
Having a slow breakfast
Trying to impress the barman with a fresh voice
When I ask for the bill
