«The 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 café. 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 realize 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 whirr and a bar maid 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 romanticizing some pain that's in your head. You 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 dishwasher 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 comin' over to my table. I got nothing to talk to anybody about. All good dreamers pass this way some day. Hidin' 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 café days.»
