The Great Migration: Lovesick Playwright's Blues

Lovesick Playwright’s Blues

Well the lamp is getting thirsty
The light is getting dim
These cold November evenings when you’re alone can be so grim
But I’ll be all right…
I’m gonna fill this empty page
Yeah, I’ll be writing down my sorrows
Sending... love letters to the stage

Well my baby was an actor
She was an artist of the lie
She had a body like a sonnet – she could eclipse the inner eye
And she left me crying…
Way up there, in the mezzanine
Burning down the basement
I was... watching the death of a scene

Dinosaurs wishing on a shooting star
I’ve got the shop teacher’s fingers on a chain
I ain’t afraid of heights so long as one foot’s on the ground
I use umbrellas only when it doesn’t rain
I never asked for love – it came on like a writer’s block
And I just can’t seem to roll it over the hill
Feeling like a gift shop penny as my baby takes her bow
Sweeping up the roses…



Yeah, I’ll put me on a play
I’d like to play it at The Globe
If it ain’t good enough for you than I’ll ramble down the road
And I’ll be all right…
Won’t let them put me in a rage
Reciting on the corner
Love letters to the stage