The last time I saw Richard was Detroit in 68
And he told me: All romantics meet the same fate
Some day, cynical and drunk and boring
Someone in some dark cafe

You laugh, 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, pretty lies
When you gonna realise they're only pretty lies?
Only pretty lies, just pretty lies

He put a quarter in the wurlitzer, and he pushed
Three buttons and the thing began to whirl
And a barman came by in 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 romanticising some pain that's in your head
You've got tombs in your eyes, but the songs
You punched are dreaming
Listen, they sing of love so sweet, 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 coffee 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 coming over to my table
I've got nothing to talk to anybody about
All good dreamers pass this way some day
Hiding behind bottles in dark cafes, dark cafes
Only a dark cocoon before
I get my gorgeous wings and fly away
Only a phase, these dark cafe days