Hand me my costume,
Please won't you pass me my mask . . .?
I have appointments that I must keep with my past . . .
Bring on the cabaret, we can all have a laugh . . .
I've mad the theatre of the absurd as last . . .

Drink up and let's go home,
The demon is on the phone . . .
He's playing a dialling tone,
So, drink up and let's go home . . .

Orchestrations of a different nature . . .
Arrangements that I made to end it all . . .
Years and years of love all turned to paper.
Dancing at the old musicians' ball.
And these beauty secrets that I've kept so long
Have slightly faded like my old blue jeans,
But read them now because before too long
They could fall apart at every seam . . .
Play me my music,
Please won't you warm up the band . . .?
It's my performance although nothing is planned . . .
Turn on the spotlight,
We can pretend there's a stage . . .
I'll be your hero only as long as I'm paid.

Drink up and let's go home,
(You're such a naughty boy . . .)
The demon is on the phone . . .
(He's got a special toy . . .)
He's playing a dialling tone,
(A thing to bring you joy . . .)
So, drink up and let's go home . . .
Let's go home . . .