(Frank Christian)      The drops from the faucet like a nervous heart   Beat on my porcelain sink a rhythm avant-garde   I page through the phone book, reach for my fountain pen   Is he comin' in for the holidays to haunt me again?   I call up Grand Central, "information please.   Is that nickel line on time? Oh fine!"   It's a hair-do with a wave   We both forgot and forgave last time      A peddlar of pots and pans down on Union Square   Said City Hall wants us off the street   There's no Christmas in the air    Some high-brows were waiting   Carnation bright lapels   Their big cars lined the curbs outside those grand hotels   I passed a marquee, Third Avenue   "Ramona" with Loretta Young and I swung myself around   And (headed) uptown to the train      So this is New year's eve another year has passed   We wait so patiently, (but) still they come and go so fast   I stand on this platform, wait for that basket of light   And the sound of the whistle screamin' out   Like some hot trumpet in the night   And ... as I'm waitin' I wonder why and where ...   And what went wrong   But this song don't tell no lies   It was just a quick good-bye, yeah