Drunken Lady of the Morning - Michael Martin Murphey, Lyle Lovett

The drunken lady of the morning

Stumbles down the street

And makes a joke of every tipsy minute

Her true love is the garbage man

He sweeps her off her feet

It’s not a perfect world but she is in it

She’d like to try to make the morning smile

Hold it to her breast a little while

Rockin' it to sleep just like a child

She feels her bones to be the stones

That pave the slippery street

She’d like to use a building for a bonnet

She wonders if the world will wait

So she can stand up straight;

It spins so fast she just can’t stand up on it

She’d like to use the magic in her mind

To turn the oil slick in the street to wine

Or polish a policeman’s eyes until they shine

The drunken lady of the morning mumbles as she swings

Her head’s so heavy she can barely life it

And smashing glass she curses at the bottle that she flings;

It’s not a perfect love but she sleeps with it

She’d like to try to make the morning cry

And tell the rising sun another lie

Or choke the light of day

Just like it was a spy

Feeling fine

Going blind

All mankind

Is divine