Alone with you,
every night alone with you.
My Warsaw girl.
My pretty little communist.
Standing in a line.
Waiting for her daily bread.
Would I be like you?
A shadow in a smoke-filled bar?
Watch them march,
soldiers in the wintry streets.
Every now and then a…
…glance a glance.
A pretty little soldier boy.
Another chance
for meaning in this barren town.
Anything will do.
A bedroom in a concrete slum.
A narrow alleyway.
A shadow in a smoke-filled bar.