Hey, Charlie...

" Hey, Charlie, i'm pregnant

and living on 9-th street,
right above a dirty bookstore
off Cuclid Avenue.
and i stopped taking dope,
and i quit drinking whiskey,
and my old man plays the trombone
and works out at the track.

and he says that he loves me
even though its not his baby.
and he says that he'll raise him up
like he would his own son.
and he gave me a ring
that was worn by his mother.
and he takes me out dancin
every saturday night.

and hey, Charlie, i think about you
everytime i pass a fillin' station,
on account of all the grease
you used to wear in your hair.
and i still have that record
of Little Anthony & The Imperials,
but someone stole my record player,
how do you like that?

hey Charlie, i almost went crazy
after Mario got busted,
so i went back to Omaha to
live with my folks.
but everyone i used to know
was either dead or in prison.
so i came back in Minneapolis.
this time i think i'm gonna stay.

hey Charlie, i think i'm happy
for the first time since my accident
and i wish i had all the money
that we used to spend on dope.
i'd buy me a used car lot
and i wouldn't sell any of them,
i'd just drive a different car
every day dependin on how i feel.

hey Charley, for chrissakes
do you want to know the truth of it?
i don't have a husband,

he don't play the trombone.
and i need to borrow money

to pay this lawyer.
and Charlie, hey,
i'll be eligible for parole 

come Valentine’s Day."