Black Remo’s Cafe

Walls painted red, with real living dead.
The seats of the chairs are Angels.
Their dogs on the door with their dog coloured jaws,
while the souls of their blood props the tables.
The closest life is an Age away…
Welcome to the door of Black Remo’s café.

This place is a dive but the dive is alive,
a safe place to die and stay beaten.
Though the ceilings a hue of the deepest sea blue
Black Remo’s holds tables for Satan!
The closest life is an Age away…
This here’s the door of Black Remo’s café.

Serving whiskey as water
– served by Gabriels daughter.
A well ignored excuse for drinking.
And night holds the key, the beautiful key!
But forget about memory and thinking.

Squeezed backs to ladies each caught by their eye
wild women to catch when you’re failing.
The light from black candles
burnt on sweet lullabies,
so dark so you can’t hear the wailing.
The closest face is an age away;
show me the door to Black Remo’s café!

Silk music plays these silk tunes slip away
though the maker of music stays muted.
So dance on to morning
when night begins yawning
and Remo’s is lightly deserted.

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