We’re still hanging out on the corners; another season’s come and gone;

still missing a piece of myself; done sang all my Christmas songs;

somewhere lonely in a cheap motel; I imagine him thinking of me;

cursing himself for nor picking up the phone; still that old telephone don’t ring;

My daddy’s come home someday;
          
he’ll chase my blues away;
                      C 
My daddy’s come home someday;
         
he’ll chase my blues away;


then I heard he was seen in the city; wandering the frozen streets alone;

back and forth between situations; outta luck, on the streets, with a heart of stone;

he probably don’t know that there’s anything else; but he could knock upon my door;

if all that hard living hasn’t crippled him inside; you don’t have to run any more;


so there, in life, each chance we take;

we may have to live with for ever more;

despite all the promises we make;

each new day may lead us astray;
                 
when we don’t know what we’re waiting for;