Alone and shivering in the cold,

I expected you at half past seven,
And now it's ten past eight.
You'd promised you'd make it this time,
And now you're already late.
The disco started a while ago,
After I stopped here to wait.
Sad and brooding as I walk,
Away from the sounds of the good times,
Back to the stillness of my home.
I guess you couldn't make it again,
For some reason of your own,
And tommorrow, I'll probably phone,
To hear the same old apology.