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 says, "you think you're immune
Go look at your eyes, they're two blue moons
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 tombstones in your eyes, but the songs you punched are dreaming
They talk a love so sweet, love so sweet
When you gonna get yourself back on your feet?
Oh and love can be so sweet, so sweet

Richard got married to a figure skater
And he bought her a dishwasher and the 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 I fly away
Only a phase these dark café days