Al Stewart - Not The One

Al Stewart - Not The One



It's the kind of grey November day that washes away reflections


In the eys of hotel porters


And the latticed wooden benches by the sea contain no traveller


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 thinking of


And you're not the one she really wants


Just a point along the line she's leaving 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 moving on


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


And you're not the one she really wants


Just a station on the line she's leaving 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 thinking of


No she's not the one you really want


Just a point along the line you're leaving from