And now that it is over
He could sit and count the cost
Wondering if she’d changed at all
And realised what they had lost
He was standing in the driving rain
Water filling up his shoe
She was lying on a snow white bed
Hair and face were all askew
Tortured by the blues
He found shelter in a small café
Writing hymns and poems on the wall
She slipped close by and cursed at him
They were both heading for a fall
Outside the booths were filling up
Minstrels and waiters in the queue
He stopped right there and filled his cup
The last romantic of the few
Tortured by the blues
Another year had passed by slow
His young face was lined with pain
She lay wrecked in a juniper bed
They both had to start out again
But all the while he was alone
Clinging to an old church pew
Women came and lovers went
The howling wind it ripped right through
Tortured by the blues
No Time to Think 