The last time I saw Richard, it 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 your eyes, their full of the moon.
You like roses, and kisses and pretty men to tell you all those pretty lies.
Pretty Lies
When you going to realize their only pretty lies
Only pretty lies
Just pretty lies

I put a quarter in the Wurlitzer
And I push three buttons and the thing began to wurr
And a bar maid came by in a pair of 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 you head.
You've got tombs in your eyes, but the songs you punched are dreamin'.
They sing of a love so sweet
Love so sweet
When you goin' to get your self back on your feet
Oh love can be so sweet
Love so sweet

Richard got married to a figure skater
And he bought her a dishwasher and a coffee percolator
And drinks at home now most nights
With all the house lights left up bright
I'm going to blow this damn candle out
I don't want nobody coming to my table
I got nothing to talk to anybody about
All good dreamers pass this way someday
Hiding in 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