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