(Ooh, desperate days)
(Ooh, desperate days)
I was an artist living in Paris,
you were sixteen.
Off by the seaside, we had a great time,
champagne till three.
You started every fashion
looking casual chic,
a trashy midnight fashion just for me.
These are the desperate days for young lovers.
We are the daring, the mighty survivors.
I order oysters, you look unhappy,
we get saltines.
Everything's all right,
we promise no fight,
just wait and see.
You've got a lot of nervous energy electric.
I'm gonna make you use it all on me.
These are the desperate days for young lovers.
We are the daring, the mighty survivors.
You got an offer, two weeks in Rio,
breakfast and tea.
Wrote you a letter, I'll never send it,
it's not like me.
Cold nights on café corners,
drinking lonely till three.
Who wakes you in the morning?
It's not me.
These are the desperate days for young lovers.
We are the daring, the mighty survivors.
These are the desperate days for young lovers.
We are the daring, the mighty survivors.
(Ooh, desperate days)