She’-s sip-ping a cap-puc-ci-no
Like a cat sip-ping out of a bo-wl
He’s black e-s-pres-so
To start his heart from go-ing cold
He’s think-ing ‘co-gnac’
But a-fraid his hands might sha-ke
She’s check-ing her make up
Her smile’s giv-ing noth-ing a-wa-y
You bet-ter kill me be-fore I kill you
You look good in black
Who’ll pay the bill and keep on walk-ing
Will get a hole in their back
Two fad-ed tour-ists
The-ir vi-sas have long ex-pired
Two for-go-t-te-n jour-nalists
Whose head-lines have re-tired
What’s that in his pock-et?
They aint Chi-nese bank-no-tes
What’s that in her hand-bag?
That’s no bar of gol-d.
a-ha!
Two sun-tann-ed lov-ers
Love didn’t die, it just went dry
Fad-ing in-to the sun-set
Those bones of love pass-ing b-y
Will get a hole in their bac-k
ewaaveris