Ginny

Stood by an unlit lamp, sees a tree, a hand shakes, waiting like a tramp, listens to some muted song, inside a head that breaks, any need to belong, better take a chance, if he plays this game, let me measure distance, hope that I'm not wrong, looking at the rain, perhaps he'll come along, it streams the window bar, what's the use of remains, to shuffle to the tar, many wounds are lanced, a small whiskey for his say, leant a hand in dance, attempt to cheer and stamp, Brother its my lucky day, put something in his pocket, brighten a sweet journey.