There's something special about six o'clock in the morning when it's still too early to knock. And the dusky light shines down on the block, and reflects up and down on the hands of the clock. A few hours ago, she was standing here, just watching the stars in our eyes, and the light says the lights disappear. And I could feel, I could say what I want, that I could nudge her and call her my confidant. And now I'm back alone with just my shadow in front. At six o'clock, at six o'clock, I went home and found that trying to sleep was a let down. Just watching my eyelids, knowing my brain fits the night not to pass. I got up and got to playing around, but somehow it just wasn't the same happy town. And the bells didn't ring with the same happy sound. At six o'clock, at six o'clock, if I go back where we started, would I ever feel like that again? Guess I'll just have to wait till tomorrow, but what can I do till then? Guess I'll go back home and just wait until dawn. Guess I had to learn going back where we were wouldn't help at all. And I wish my head had been working right. We'd have gone for coffee and talked all night. Now I'm back alone, just twisted up tight. Six o'clock, six o'clock, now I'm back alone. Yes, now I'm back alone. I'm back alone.