|
Nelson |
|
Hand me my costume, |
|
please won't you pass me mask . . . ? |
|
I have appointments that I must keep with my past . . . |
|
Bring on the cabaret, we can all have a laught . . . |
|
I've made the theatre of the absurd at last . . . |
|
Drink up and let's go home, |
|
The demon is on the phone . . . |
|
He's playing a dialing tone, |
|
So, drink up and let's go home . . . |
|
Orchestrations of a different nature . . . |
|
Arrangements that I made to end it all . . . |
|
Yeras and years of love all turned to paper, |
|
Dancing at the old musician's ball. |
|
And these beauty secrets that I've kept so long |
|
Have slightly faded like my old blue jeans, |
|
But read them now because before too long |
|
They could fall apart at every seam . . . |
|
Play me my music, |
|
please won't you warm up the band . . . ? |
|
Turn on the spotlight, |
|
we can pretend there's a stage . . . |
|
I'll be your hero only as long as I'm paid. |
|
Drink up and let's go home . . . |
|
(You're such a naughty boy . . .) |
|
The demon is on the phone . . . |
|
(He's got a special toy . . .) |
|
He's playing a dialing tone . . . |
|
(A thing to bring you joy . . .) |
|
So, drink up and let's go home . . . |
|
Let's go home . . . |