In the Arrivederci Roma nightclub, bar and grill
|
Standing in the fiberglass ruins watching time stand still
|
All your troubles you confess to another faceless, backless dress
|
Schnapps, chianti, porter and ouzo
|
Pernod, vodka, sambuca - I love you so
|
Deportee
|
|
There's a tatty beauty talking in riddles
|
Rome burns down and everybody fiddles
|
Deportee
|
But a thousand dollars won't buy you a Yank, you wife, alas
|
There's a thousand years of history ground in this chaser glass
|
And how I wish that she was mine
|
I could have been the King in Six Eight Time
|
Deportee
|
|
Oh, it's a brittle charm, but she's had enough
|
Still she wrote her name upon his paper cuff
|
And you don't where to start or where to stop
|
All this pillow talk is nothing more than finally talking shop
|
|
When I came here tonight my pockets were overflowing
|
They took my return ticket without me even knowing
|
Well, I pray to the saints and all the martyrs
|
For the secret life of Frank Sinatra
|
But none of these things have come to pass
|
In America the law is a piece of ass
|
Deportee
|
|
So it's Schnapps, chianti, porter and ouzo
|
Pernod, vodka, sambuca - I love you so
|
Deportee
|
Deportee
|
Poor Deportee
|
|
-----------------
|
Deportee
|
| Elvis Costello |
