Wednesday Morning, 3 A.m.

I can hear the soft breathing

Of the girl that i love,

As she lies here beside me

Asleep with the night,

And her hair, in a fine mist

Floats on my pillow,

Reflecting the glow

Of the winter moonlight.



She is soft, she is warm,

But my heart remains heavy,

And i watch as her breasts

Gently rise, gently fall,

For i know with the first light of dawn

I'll be leaving,

And tonight will be

All i have left to recall.



Oh, what have i done,

Why have i done it,

I've committed a crime,

I've broken the law.

For twenty-five dollars

And pieces of silver,

I held up and robbed

A hard liquor store.



My life seems unreal,

My crime an illusion,

A scene badly written

In which i must play.

Yet i know as i gaze

At my young love beside me,

The morning is just a few hours away.


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