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I've been sitting on the corner, on this worn out bench all day The address on the postcard simply will not fade away And I'll still be here when the daytime ends And I'm never going home againLike an artist who cannot afford to buy any more red Atired and weary rambler who can never find a bed Or a poet who can never find a pen And I'm never going home againI don't need a glass of rye or bottle full of scotch If I have my canvas backpack and chinatown watch I don't need a pillow I don't sleep much anyway All I need's someone to hear these things I have to say To wait for all of the postcards that I send Cause I'm never going home againI guess you've forgotten me by now that much is clear But in case you haven't, you can always find me here I can say I knew a hundred people when And I'm never going home againThey say "april is the cruelest month," and I don't know what's worse than springAll the snow is melting but that doesn't mean a thingI've been across the country, and you know it's all the same The address always fades away but you never lose the name And I wind up here, waiting on the number 10 And I'm never going home again From Letras Mania