Invitation to the Blues 

Well she's up against the register with an apron and a spatula, 
Yesterday's deliveries, tickets for the bachelors  
She's a moving violation from her conk down to her shoes, 
Well, it's just an invitation to the blues 

And you feel just like Cagney, she looks like Rita Hayworth 
At the counter of the Schwab's [bad word] 
You wonder if she might be single, she's a loner and likes to mingle 
Got to be patient, try and pick up a clue 

She said "How you gonna like 'em, over medium or scrambled?", 
You say "Anyway's the only way", be careful not to gamble 
On a guy with a suitcase and a ticket getting out of here 
It's a tired bus station and an old pair of shoes 
This ain't nothing but an invitation to the blues 

But you can't take your eyes off her, get another cup of java, 
It's just the way she pours it for you, joking with the customers 
Mercy mercy, Mr. Percy, there ain't nothing back in Jersey 
But a broken-down jalopy of a man I left behind 
And the dream that I was chasing, and a battle with booze 
And an open invitation to the blues 

But she used to have a sugar daddy and a candy-apple Caddy, 
And a bank account and everything, accustomed to the finer things 
He probably left her for a socialite, and he didn't 'cept at night, 
And then he's [bad word] and never even told her that her cared 
So they took the registration, and the car-keys and her shoes 
And left her with an invitation to the blues 

'Cause there's a Continental Trailways leaving local bus tonight, good evening 
You can have my seat, I'm sticking round here for a while 
Get me a room at the Squire, the filling station's hiring, 
And I can eat here every night, what the [bad word] have I got to lose? 
Got a crazy sensation, go or stay? now I gotta choose, 
And I'll accept your invitation to the blues