A bottle of white, a bottle
of red
Perhaps a bottle of
rosé instead
We'll get a table near the
street
In our old familiar place
You and I, face to face,
mmm
A bottle of red, a bottle
of white
It all depends upon your
appetite
I'll meet you any time
you want
In our Italian restaurant
Things are okay with me
these days
Got a good job,
got a good office
Got a new wife, got a new
life and the family is fine
Oh, lost touch long ago
You lost weight, I did
not know
You could ever look so nice
After so much time
You remember those days
hanging out at the Village
Green?
Engineer boots, leather
jackets and tight blue jeans
Oh, you drop a dime
in the box
Play the song about
New Orleans
Cold beer, hot lights
My sweet romantic teenage
nights
Brenda and Eddie were the
popular steadies
And the king and the queen
of the prom
Riding around with the car
top down and the radio on
Nobody looked any finer
Or was more of a hit at the
Parkway Diner
We never knew we could want
more than that out of life
Surely Brenda and Eddie would
always know how to survive
Brenda and Eddie were still
going steady in the summer of
'75
When they decided their
marriage should be at the
end of July
Everyone said they were
crazy
"Brenda you know that you're
much too lazy
And Eddie could never afford
to live that kind of life."
Oh but there we were waving
Brenda and Eddie goodbye
Well, they got an apartment
with deep pile carpets
And a couple of paintings
from Sears
A big waterbed that they
bought with the bread
They had saved for a couple
of years
They started to fight when
the money got tight
And they just didn't count
on the tears
Yeah, rock and roll!
Well, they lived for a while
in a very nice style
But it's always the same
in the end
They got a divorce as a
matter of course
And they parted the closest
of friends
Then the king and the queen
went back to the green
But you can never go back
there again
Brenda and Eddie had had it
already by the summer of '75
From the high to the low to
the end of the show
For the rest of their
lives
They couldn't go back
to the Greasers
The best they could do was
pick up their pieces
We always knew they would
both find a way to get by
And that's all I heard about
Brenda and Eddie
Can't tell you more 'cause I
told you already
And here we are waving
Brenda and Eddie goodbye
Bottle of red, bottle
of white
Whatever kind of mood
you're in tonight
I'll meet you anytime
you want
In our Italian restaurant