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 gla** 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