(Bird, Costello, Toussaint). . Not a soul was stirring. Not a bird was singing, at least not within my hearing. I was five minutes past caring. Standing in the road just staring.
You're a fine one, oh yes you are. You're a fine one just like me. And we're friends now, oh wouldn't you say?. We've been friends now, oh haven't we?.
Here she comes with her almost ideal eyes. And her flawless skin and her petulant pout. The memory of such a long blonde alibi. Still makes me want to shout out loud and clear.
In an anonymous rendezvous. Where the forbidden lovers repair. They're burning down another damn candle. They're melting the tables and chairs. . Beneath them applause from the balcony.