Meet me at the Orient Espresso.
It’s the one with dirty tables
where passable cappuccino can be yours.
And they don’t always charge you
and they don’t always barge in
on your conversation.
Meet me at the British-ish Museum.
It comprises things we stole and pictures of the Colosseum,
some rodeo in Rome.
And it might be enlightening,
and it might not be frightening
when a mature room attendant gives you the eye.
Everybody loves a competition, don’t you find?
And no one ever died from going to night school.
But while you’ve been busy getting educated in the head,
my friends and I have only played the fool.
We’ve only played the fool.
Yes, we’re too cool for school.
The future is ending
and I’m still pretending
I don’t mind.
I really, really don’t mind.