I've got a writer's block the size of the Empire State

And good sentiment always comes too late

Drives me out of my mind to see us drinking in the same bars

In the Bowery, East Village and Lower East Side

But not at the same time

So far from truth in a room that I used to share with you

Filled with cat hair and tobacco fumes

We both lived in the same tomb

You come to me in my sleep and even though I know it's just a dream

You convinced me that you still love me

Do you still love me?

And I said awful things like a fool that knew not what to do

But even the biggest fool could tell that I still loved you

Could tell that I still loved you