Saturday our way
Sneak back to your place
Taxi, backseat
Bubble-gum and whisky
Green eyes at midnight
A burning gaslight
Feverish, Gravity
Bittersweet Symphony

I promised I wouldn't use your name
But Juliette, you promised a lot more
And that meant nothing
Nothing, nothing, nothing

Next day, café
Tourists on holiday
You saw the end dead ahead
In signs I misread
So thank you for last night
Memories that taste like
Cigarettes and Jameson
Coffee and Cinnamon

I promised I wouldn't use your name
But Juliette, you promised a lot more
And that meant nothing
Nothing, nothing, nothing

Meet me in the library
Where we will find ourselves surrounded by so many words
I ought to steal some
To rewrite our history
Instead I translate it into verse
And with my luck, you'll never hear one

Remember the restaurant where we met?
The new sheets on your bed?
The shower? Hallway?
Never, always