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In the white room
with black curtains
near the station.
Blackroof country,
no gold pavements,
tired starlings.
Silver horses
ran down moonbeams
in your dark eyes.
Dawnlight smiles
on you leaving,
my contentment.
I'll wait in this place
where the sun never shines;
Wait in this place
where the shadows run from themselves.
You said no strings
could secure you
at the station.
Platform ticket,
restless diesels,
goodbye windows.
I walked into
such a sad time
at the station.
As I walked out,
felt my own need
just beginning.
I'll wait in the queue
when the trains come back;
Lie with you
where the shadows run from themselves.
At the party
she was kindness
in the hard crowd.
Consolation
for the old wound
now forgotten.
Yellow tigers
crouched in jungles
in her dark eyes.
She's just dressing,
goodbye windows,
tired starlings.
I'll sleep in this place
with the lonely crowd;
Lie in the dark
where the shadows run from themselves.
Eric Clapton
White room
White room
In the white room
with black curtains
near the station.
Blackroof country,
no gold pavements,
tired starlings.
Silver horses
ran down moonbeams
in your dark eyes.
Dawnlight smiles
on you leaving,
my contentment.
I'll wait in this place
where the sun never shines;
Wait in this place
where the shadows run from themselves.
You said no strings
could secure you
at the station.
Platform ticket,
restless diesels,
goodbye windows.
I walked into
such a sad time
at the station.
As I walked out,
felt my own need
just beginning.
I'll wait in the queue
when the trains come back;
Lie with you
where the shadows run from themselves.
At the party
she was kindness
in the hard crowd.
Consolation
for the old wound
now forgotten.
Yellow tigers
crouched in jungles
in her dark eyes.
She's just dressing,
goodbye windows,
tired starlings.
I'll sleep in this place
with the lonely crowd;
Lie in the dark
where the shadows run from themselves.
