Another Invitation to the Blues

Well, he's up against the banister,
with cigaretts and booze,
Today's glances, bait for the unsuspecting hos,
He's a cruel revelation,
From his skinhead down to his pubes,
Well, he's just an invitation to the blues.

And you feel like Nadia Lotfi,
He looks like Ahmed Ramzi
At the corner of Groppi's garden,
You wonder if he's flirting,
He's a player and he likes it
Have to be careful, even if he rubs against you
He said: 'You look like a pervert,
Behind that innocence
You say, 'You never know', don't drown him in your benevolence,
Of a queen with a handbag
Stuck in the past,
In former bourgeois existence and a tired pair of shoes
He aint nothing but an invitation to the blues

And you feel the desire to touch him,
With Vodka in your hand,
The look that he gives you, flirting with all the girls,
Easy you fucking bastard,
Playing is an art I never mastered,
Only a trail of that broken heart I drag around
The joy I keep faking,
that I am generous enough to lose,
For I always get that invitation to the blues,

He loves the ones who put a show,
And brag to let you know,
A career, an apartment, and what not, all the things you know you ain't got
That other man, whose European,
Who met him at the Colosseum,
And ended up together, without ever knowing the truth
They moved together in this apartment,
And danced all night around his pubes,
And left the other girls, with an invitation to the blues



Zamalek is at social crossways
Always a soiree there, Amusez-vous bien,
I can't stay long, I'm only here for the night
I will stand by the balcony,
They're offering me drinks,
Its only a party, even I get a little bruise

Its a ridiculous temptation
Half mockery, one tenth true,
But I will take your invitation to the blues