Song parody of
Tea for Coffee
by Nikita Boone
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He lived slowly, rode the trolley
He never drew much attention
She served coffee in her cafe
And every Thursday he would long to join her
She dressed sweetly
But incompletely to hide the woman she had blossomed into
Rain or blue sky still he'd drive by
He swore 'someday' but each day would pass by
He lived alone beside a TV
And lately given up his Tea for coffee
He never knew the aftertaste could be so sweet
Then one May day, on his payday
He bought the flowers he would offer to her
But as he drew near he just steered clear
He saw another man with arms around her
He rents a flat now in the country
And having given up his tea for coffee
Believes he'll never know the sweet, dark taste of love
He sets his easel by a park bench
He knows the bitter sweet of tea for coffee
Another day, another still life for his wall
She was married and miscarried
He turned to stone and for years they drifted
Sold the cafe, went their own ways
She lives alone now in a flat near Bury
He sets his easel by a park bench
He knows the bitter sweet of tea for coffee
Another day, another still life for his wall
He paints his still life watercolours
And lately shares some of his tea for coffee
She loves the flowers that he paints her most of all
He lived slowly, rode the trolley
He never drew much attention
She served coffee in her cafe
And every Thursday he would long to join her
She dressed sweetly
But incompletely to hide the woman she had blossomed into
Rain or blue sky still he'd drive by
He swore 'someday' but each day would pass by
He lived alone beside a TV
And lately given up his Tea for coffee
He never knew the aftertaste could be so sweet
Then one May day, on his payday
He bought the flowers he would offer to her
But as he drew near he just steered clear
He saw another man with arms around her
He rents a flat now in the country
And having given up his tea for coffee
Believes he'll never know the sweet, dark taste of love
He sets his easel by a park bench
He knows the bitter sweet of tea for coffee
Another day, another still life for his wall
She was married and miscarried
He turned to stone and for years they drifted
Sold the cafe, went their own ways
She lives alone now in a flat near Bury
He sets his easel by a park bench
He knows the bitter sweet of tea for coffee
Another day, another still life for his wall
He paints his still life watercolours
And lately shares some of his tea for coffee
She loves the flowers that he paints her most of all
