nighthawks at the diner

of Emma's 49er, there's a rendezvous

of strangers around the coffee urn tonight

all the gypsy hacks, the insomniacs

now the paper's been read

now the waitress said



eggs and sausage and a side of toast

coffee and a roll, hash browns over easy

chile in a bowl with burgers and fries

what kind of pie?



In a graveyard charade, a late shift masquerade

2 for a quarter, dime for a dance

with Woolworth rhinestone diamond

earrings, and a sideway's glance

and now the register rings

and now the waitress sings



(chorus)



the classified section offered no direction

it's a cold caffeine in a nicotine cloud

now the touch of your fingers

lingers burning in my memory

I've been 86ed from your scheme

I'm in a melodramatic nocturnal scene

I'm a refugee from a disconcerted affair

as the lead pipe morning falls

and the waitress calls



(chorus)


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