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 a 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 leavingAnd tonight will be all I have left to recall.
Oh what have I done, why have I done it ?I've committed a crime, broken the law.For 25 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.