Last time I saw Richard was Detroit in 68 And he told me all romantics meet the same fate Someday, cynical and drunk and boring someone In some dark cafe. You laugh, he said you think you're immune Go look at eyes They're full of moon You like roses and kisses and pretty men to tell you All those pretty lies, pretty lies. When you gonna realize they're only pretty lies Only pretty lies, pretty lies. He put a quarter in the wurlitzer, and 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. That's just 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 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 night 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 dreamers pass this away someday Hidin' behind bottles in dark cafes. Dark cafes. Only a darkness before I get my gorgeous wings And fly away Only a phase, these dark cafe days
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