Jackson Browne

She was a friend to me when I needed one
Wasn't for her I don't know what I'd done
She gave me back something that was missing in me
She could of turned out to be almost anyone
Almost anyone--
With the possible exception
Of who I wanted her to be
Running into the midnight
With her clothes whipping in the wind
Reaching into the heart of the darkness
For the tenderness within
Stumblin' into the lights of the city
And then back in the shadows again
Hanging onto the laughter
That each of us hid our unhappiness in
Talk about celestial bodies
And your angels on the wing
She wasn't much good at stickin' around--but
She could sing...
In the dead of night