Last time I saw Richard
Was Detroit in 68 and he told me
"All romantics meet the same fate someday:
Cynical and bitter and boring someone
In some dark cafe"
You laughed, he said: "You think you're immune?
Go look at your eyes, they're full of moon!
You like roses and kisses
And pretty men to tell you all those pretty lies"
"When are you gonna realize they're only pretty lies?"
Only pretty lies, pretty lies
He put a quarter in the Wurlitzer
And then he pushed three buttons and the thing began to whirl
And a waitress came by a fishnet stockings and a bow tie
And she said: "drink up now, it's getting on time to close"
"Richard, you haven't really changed", I said
"It's just that now you're romanticizing some pain that's in your head
You've got tombs in your in your eyes
But the songs you punched are dreaming"
Listen, they talk of love so sweet
When you gonna get yourself back on your feet?
Oh and love can be so sweet
Love's so sweet
Richard got married to a figure skater
And he bought her a dish washer and a coffe percolator
And he drinks at home now, most nights with the TV on
And all the house lights left up bright
I'm gonna blow this damn candle out
I don't want nobody comin' over to my table,
I've got nothing to talk to anybody about
All good dreamer pass this away someday
Hidin' behind bottles in dark cafes
Only this darkness
Before I get my gorgeous wings
And fly away
Only a phase, these dark cafe days