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A winter morning sun in New York |
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Champagne wakes and checks the time |
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It's hard to keep a cup of coffee down |
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When there's so much on your mind |
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Kicks a cockroach 'cross the bedroom floor |
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Checks the mirror grabs some clothes |
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Waits for the aching to subside |
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Where to find it no-one knows |
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And they say you're doing fine |
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They're just playing with your mind |
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And they never even know your name |
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But they all want you to shine |
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To glitter all the time |
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They all want a little taste of Champagne |
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Takes the subway early afternoon |
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Downtown to Eighth Avenue |
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To the Show Palace Theatre |
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Where Champagne bares all |
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In a low rent nude revue |
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In the darkness shadow people |
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Stare at Champagne glassy eyed |
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Takes the tips and imitates a smile |
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Waits for the aching to subside |
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And they say you're doing fine |
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They're just playing with your mind |
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And they never even know your name |
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But they all want you to shine |
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To glitter all the time |
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They all want a little taste of Champagne |
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Later in a room |
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On a little glass pipe |
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Sweet dreams to help him |
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Forget his life |
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He leans on the wall |
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Rolls back his eyes |
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And says to all the aching Goodbye |
