Not the One

It's the kind of grey November day that washes away reflections In the eyes of hotel porters And the latticed wooden benches by the sea contain no travellers 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 --- Not the One - Al Stewart