HET KAFE (© Words and Music by Paul F. Cowlan )
One of the doubtful advantages of being a songwriter is that, if the evening doesnt quite work out the way youd hoped, at least you can always write a song about it. This little non-adventure happened in Haarlem, hence the Dutch title.
I guess I missed my chance with you.
But, to tell the truth, I didnt know what I should do.
You stood and watched me while I sang the Blues;
and then you turned away.
When I saw you later, behind the door,
kissing somebody, then I was not sure
what youd been giving me those long looks for.
It was hard to tell.
And then you spent so long in your conversation,
while I was waiting, anticipating.
I thought, “Maybe its just my imagination.
Id better let her be.”
Your foxy eyes and your swept back hair.
You really did it to me while you were standing there.
The streets of Haarlem never seemed so bare
as when I left alone.
Later that evening I was on my own;
behind the wheel, driving home.
I thought, “Cest la vie! But if only I had known
what was on her mind.”
I really wonder where you are tonight,
and whos the lucky man whos holding you tight.
Youll never even hear this song, but thats alright.
Thats just the way it goes.