| I’m sittin' in this cafe | 
| People talkin' so loud I can’t hear myself think | 
| That’s not a bad thing | 
| The coffee keeps on coming | 
| The waiter who keeps smilin' | 
| As I’m ridin' on a river of caffeine | 
| An' that’s not a bad thing | 
| I used to feel sorry for someone like me | 
| In a corner booth pretendin' to read on a Friday night | 
| I used to say: «It just ain’t right.» | 
| How could anybody ever have any fun | 
| Without somebody, without someone? | 
| It never dawned on me | 
| The possibility | 
| That it’s not a bad thing | 
| Those naggin' thoughts about you | 
| How I left without you tonight: | 
| You know, they’re few and far between | 
| The waiter’s name is Joey, he told me | 
| And that’s when I noticed he ain’t wearing any ring | 
| An' that’s not a bad thing | 
| And there is a tug on the edge of my heart | 
| It’s you again sayin': «Don't you start lettin' go of me.» | 
| But I ain’t listenin' | 
| For once in my life, I’ll feel what I feel | 
| Let it be, let it be real | 
| Let it flow through me | 
| An' wash me clean | 
| That’s not a bad thing | 
| As I’m drivin' home, I’m thinkin' | 
| The worst might be over | 
| Or maybe I’m a little bit naive | 
| But the street lights seem brighter | 
| As I walk to my front door | 
| And I’m all alone when I turn the key | 
| An' that’s not a bad thing | 
| I used to feel sorry for someone like me | 
| In a corner booth pretendin' to read on a Friday night | 
| I used to say: «It just ain’t right.» | 
| How could anybody ever have any fun | 
| Without somebody, without someone? | 
| It never dawned on me | 
| The possibility | 
| That it’s not a bad thing |