WAITING FOR CHRISTINE
Words and Music written by Stephen Fields



        The coffee's grown cold
        and the newspaper was old 
        when I sat down 
        beneath the overhang.
        The sidewalk's wet 
        and people are trying to get 
        where they're going 
        before it comes down again.
        And I'm just waiting for Christine
        to come in from the Portland rain.

        Rush hour's on 
        and the traffic's sad song
        is a dirge 
        too long and too slow.
        White knuckles on wheels 
        trying in vain to steal
        one ahead 
        but can't make it a go.
        And I'm just waiting for Christine,
        she should have been here long ago.

        I hear a siren sing 
        a distant kind of thing
        and I look up 
        at the windows of the shops.
        Through steamed-up glass 
        and I have to ask
        myself 
        why all the clocks have stopped.
        And I'm just waiting for Christine
        looking through the raindrops.

        Waiting for Christine.

        Waiting for Christine.