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