The record player keeps spinning the Vinyl
black & white pictures on the walls
are beginning to talk
And the lights blink on and off

The same dark feeling of despair settles over me
during the early hours of the morning
It's a shame 'cause I've run out of whiskey
to help chase the inspiration and sleep
I desperately need

My thoughts cross to you sometimes
and I wonder where you are now
I guess you never kept that promise
as I've yet to see your name on a spine

I guess I'll go to bed now
I'll put on one more record
and muddle into the fog

These black & white pictures
are beginning to talk
And the lights blink
On and off