(Bob Lind)
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Diamonds of silvery rain in the fountains,
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And ten-cent red roses from department store counters,
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Watching the moonlight reflect off the river,
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Beside where the trains cross the bridge and slow down,
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Trains with white letters on black iron sides,
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And white rushing water that all rolls away,
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And Little Miss Someone does not want to stay.
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Everyone's moving, with places to go,
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And Mr Zero, he sadly stands still.
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As the water goes one way, the train goes another,
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Mr Zero stands still and Miss Someone don't bother.
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Yesterday's kiss will be cold by tomorrow,
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As campfires of midnight dissolve in the darkness.
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The room is deserted, the blinds have been drawn,
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Little Miss Someone has packed up and gone.
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Fast moving cars disappear down the highway,
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With signs that say "hitch-hikers: do not disturb".
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Mr Zero looks quietly up from the curb.
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Morning has faded, and shadows have grown,
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And Little Miss Someone is on her way home.
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Mr Zero stands watching, her plane flies above,
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And with frost-bitten hands waves goodbye to his love.
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Walks through the park on a bright summer Sunday,
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And tapestry kittens that hung on the wall.
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They all die in the air like a soft minor chord,
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A vacancy sign, and a bulletin board.
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Mr Zero is wrapping his jacket around him,
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Speaking kind words that should have been said long ago,
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But Little Miss Someone does not want to know.
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The night is deserted, there's dust on the shelf,
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Mr Zero sits lonely and talks to himself.
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It's too late to change, the fine line has been crossed,
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The charades are all done, Mr Zero has lost.
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Mr. Zero
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| The Yardbirds |
