Late at night,
when reality's failed and nothing is prevailing but the wind,
I come to you

Out of sight,
like a fugitive trailing across a barren land, you let me in,
you always do

My reason is caught by a sudden gust
of lateral thought that sweeps me
far beyond,
it's the opium of the night

And the ocean of words
that we throw in the air
grows more absurd
and nobody seems to care,
it's a refugee's respite
Cafe Society

Late at night,
while the city lies sleeping and solitude is keeping me awake,
I think of you

Dim your lights,
oh, I want to sink deep in that river of oblivion you make,
I need it, too

Let me check-in my mind
with my coat at the door,
'cause I want to go flying
where I've never been before,
some inviting [some 3-syllable thing that ryhmes with "ravine"]

If the hand that you hold
in the dead of the night
is a little too cold,
the body seems just right,
it's a [some 5-syllable thing that also rhymes with "ravine"]
Cafe Society

8 1-2-3

[Sound of footsteps walking along a street A pause, the footsteps take two
steps up a short flight of stairs Five knocks, a door opens, a coctail party
is heard in the background, and a semi-snobbish voice says, "Excuse me, sir,
are you a member?"]

One, two, three
That's how elementary
it's gonna be
Just fine and dandy,
it's easy,
like taking candy from a baby

>From the poor country,
when you bought a rose, you
paid them with beads,
tipped the general,
it's easy,
like taking candy from a baby

The hard part is learning about it,
the hard part is breaking through to the truth
The hard part is learning to doubt
what you read, what you hear, what you see on the news

Foriegn policy,
made above my head, well,
no one asked me
They just laughed and said
it's easy,
like taking candy from a baby
It's easy,
like taking candy from a baby

Once they get you sucked into the system,
once they get you under control,
the hard part is knowing how to resist
the grip that they keep on your mind and your soul

So in the end,
we just compromise,
and pretend
If you close your eyes,
it's easy,
like taking candy from a baby

9 The Candidate

Inside the lonely building
sits the candidate
His speech is typed and ready,
the hundred-dollar plates
sit on deserted tables,
beneath flourescent lights
But no one comes to hear him,
no cheers disturb the night
So where are all the voters?
Where the voter's wives?
They've all gone to the movies
trying to understand their lives
The candidate is slipping
into some dream of old,
not noticing around him
a thousand rubber chickens going cold