| Reservations for one tonight
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| I’ll be eating by myself again
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| At that quiet little corner spot
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| Where we used to hang with all our friends
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| And I’ll ease down to the local pub
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| Climb up on the tallest stool
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| Holding court with my common sense
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| Outwitting all these common fools
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| I’ve got good taste for blended whiskey
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| I can see my way around this bar
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| I can hear the sound of a vintage jukebox
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| And smell the smoke of a hand-rolled cigar
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| I can’t read your mind
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| Baby I can sense this much
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| When it comes to your love
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| I feel like I’m losing my touch
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| You’re not buying this anymore
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| My lies have come up short again
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| You haven’t said it’s over yet
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| Oh but I can feel a bitter wind
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| And after giving me your better years
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| And hoping for the very best
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| Closing time is drawing near As I sit alone with all the rest
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| When it comes to your love
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| I feel like I’m losing my touch |