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It's Friday and late after hours, |
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And still I haven't a date. |
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Waiting by the moon, |
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Sipping Whiskey sours. |
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I'll think I'll wait here 'till noon. |
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It really could be days, |
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'Til I find some flowers, |
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So I'll send you a bouquet. |
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Chorus 1: |
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Uptown, run around, hear the sound, of the city streets below, |
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And people in a rush everywhere. |
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No rain, sugar cane, just a grain, |
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In my champagne glass, you know. |
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You put that magic touch in the air. |
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So they say, it's closing time again, |
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Funny how time passes, |
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Through a bottle of Champagne. |
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The only sound I hear, is that of rattling glasses, |
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And people laughing in my ear. |
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You've taken far too much, since you left for Paris, |
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You've got that magic touch. |
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Chorus 2: |
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Uptown, run around, hear the sound, of the city streets below, |
|
And the people rush everywhere. |
|
No rain, sugar cane, just a grain, |
|
In my Champagne glass, you know. |
|
You put that magic touch in the air. |
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See those people in a rush, |
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But you've got that magic touch. |
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(Repeat twice) |
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Repeat Chorus 1 'til fade. |
