The Face Of Wanda
Patrick Cannell © 2011
I'll never wake up in the morning
In the same bed that I'm in now.
And, as I see the sun rise up,
I'll never drink from the same cup I drink from now.
I'll never pass beneath this doorway
I may have done so once before.
And as the traffic rushes by
I hear a soft wind give a sigh, give a sigh.
I'll never see the face of Wanda
Or feel her touch upon my skin.
And as the plane climbs through the clouds
My spinning head is filled with doubts, is filled with doubts.
What is this feeling that follows me?
Some force is stealing my identity.
The dice are tumbling, so hear the call,
No soul yet living knows how they will fall.
I'll never stand here on this platform,
A single suit case in my hand.
Oh Wanda do forgive me please,
A travelling man is ill at ease, is ill at ease.
What is this feeling that follows me?
Some force is stealing my identity.
The dice are tumbling, so hear the call,
No soul yet living knows how they will fall.
What is this current that drags me down?
It's like I've stolen someone else's crown.
So stop your crying, my Wanda hush,
The wheels of motion care not who they crush.