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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 leaving
And 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.
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