Not the One

It's the kind of gray November day that washes

Away reflections in the eyes of hotel porters

And the latticed wooden benches by the sea

Contain no travelers or Irish lady authors

And the girl in the raincoat walks the lanes

Of Brighton with her collar turned against the wind

And hovers in the doorways of second-hand

Bookshops among the dust and fading print

And you're not the one she's thinkin' of

And you're not the one she really wants

Just a point along the line she's leavin' from

She goes into a cafe, orders tea, looks

At the menu but there's nothing really on it

And the place is as deserted as a plaza

In a heat-wave and the cloth has jam upon it

But the girl in the raincoat doesn't stop to count

The tea-leaves or turn to see the mists around the sun

For the winter's unfolding around her

And it's time for movin' on

And you're not the one she's thinkin' of

And you're not the one she really wants

Just a point along the line she's leavin' from

And so you sit there in the middle of

The carpet with her suitcases around you

And it comes to you, she journeyed to the center

Of your life but she never really found you

Just another girl in a raincoat who

Shared the passing of the days

And you're glad of the warmth that she

Gave you and you hardly need to say

That she's not the one you're thinkin' of

No, she's not the one you really want

Just a point along the line you're leavin' from