A fire burns in building and home
In which you live and eat from soup stoves
Not moving from the tin ***
That tells me that you don't look for love

It was Saturday and late
All my food was scattered on the plate
There was a fairy queen hiding behind the dishes
And as the wheels spun, she lay cloistered behind a window, looking outside

I could see fire in her eyes
But, ice in her heart full of seas
I could swear that her name was Deborah
And she was wearing a wreath made laurel and gold

Well, I was a cleaner
But, I couldn't look back
I saw something sooner
Than my knees touching the floor

I guess I was just seventeen
When my dreams meant something to me
As long as they helped me sleep
They would creep into the nights of satin

I should have left her on the avenue
But, she left me with no room for thought
So I hurt myself and flew south
Paying dues for a broken heart

On Saturday, it was alright
Who goes the very next day?
For endless prayer, so the bitterness can end
To look for a friend named Deborah