Eulogy for My Next Lover - Brenda Kahn
    I'm gonna sit here 'til I finish my last cigarette

    lazy sunday night, and every waitress added wrong on every check
    a man comes up to pay,  he's got one of them licorice drinks on his breath
    and it takes me to the south of france,  where i'm drinking down another glass,
    and the children mixing water and mint

    And he says, "baby will you miss me?"
    you are only a phone call away,  a pile of 10p pieces on holiday

    I'm gonna sit here 'til I finish my last cigarette
    middle eastern music, it reminds me of those sunsets in hamamet

    Yeah, we talk until the morning, it lights up the sky
    and the breadless mourners watch with curious eye (sigh?)

    And this old arab at the bar, he tells us
    "nothing in life is sure, except that la vie, c'est dur sans confitures"

    And he says,
    "will i ever see you again?"
    well, i am only half a world away,
    but you could write me a letter,
    there's something you forgot to say.

    I'm gonna sit here 'til I finish my last cigarette

    Love's like oil, it's slippery and easily ignited
    and i've noticed that my lovers they mark the time,
    and i'm growing older by the hour,
    my outlook growing equally dour,
    life bittersweet but never sour

    And he says,
    "do you think we'll be great lovers someday?"

    I say I am only a phone call away,
    hand him a quarter and walk the other way ...


    Marco Giunco
    Work Basket Music Words