I am sitting by my window;
|
I am thinking of my rent.
|
I am looking through my pockets,
|
And I'm wondering where it went.
|
I am feeling like the Devil,
|
Maybe like the Devil's wife.
|
I am singing for my supper.
|
I am singing for my life.
|
|
Things go up and things go down,
|
And we have all these highs and lows,
|
But are we even in the end,
|
I don't think anybody knows,
|
But when I look from my window
|
I pretend that I'm in France.
|
You know I never have been there
|
But I might jump at the chance.
|
|
Tell me what do you do
|
With a troubled mind?
|
Do you sing? Do you cry?
|
Do you wait for a better time?
|
Do you think about tomorrow
|
When you're living in today?
|
And can you stop this tide against you,
|
Make it go the other way?
|
|
And when I look from my window
|
I can hear the little bird sing;
|
And I like to hear those little birds
|
Because then I know it's Spring.
|
And Spring comes after Winter,
|
Surely all of this we know.
|
And Spring is really coming,
|
It's just so god damn slow.
|
|
I am sitting by my window;
|
I am thinking of my rent.
|
I am looking through my pockets
|
And I am wondering where it went.
|
I am feeling like the Devil,
|
Maybe like the Devil's wife.
|
I am singing for my supper.
|
I am singing for my life.
|
|
-----------------
|
The Rent Song
|
| Suzanne Vega |
