sonya too is left behind
her fat father's to an early grave
mother weaves abstracts with some small talent
we all have some small talent
thank god the house is paid
sonya sings jazz
it sounds like one song to me
and the world's left sonya behind

ah here comes francine
of the street up the street
of the street and madness
will she remember her dream
of the brass buttons on my greatcoat
how they gleamed
no she looks right through me
and i too am left
alone
a sunny day here on the streets in bohemia
the city does not love its children
and sonya's left behind

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