I stand beneath this laundry sign,
its buzzing a loud drone,
I play the fiddle's lonesome whine,
along to the awful tone,
together we raise the sun,
as light breaks cloudy sky,
its a cold Seattle morning,
and I didn't sleep last night

sleepers in dark windows may hear us in their dreaming,
I play a tune for them,
the sound is careening,
all through the streets and alleys that surround this parking lot,
birds begin to rally,
I join in,
even though my voice is shot

the laundry lady appears,
to open up her place,
she neither frowns nor cheers,
not a smile, not a trace,
she's got work to do,
her day must now begin,
I play a tune for her,
I take a bow and grin

I didn't sleep last night
'cause I stayed up with a friend,
we wanted to be lovers,
we just rolled around and kissed,
we left our long johns on,
it was very fine,
she had a plane to catch,
I got her there on time

I stand beneath this laundry sign,
its buzzing a loud drone .....

copyright jan peters 2009