She can’t believe that’s the fourth bottle he’s uncorking
He can’t believe that they’ve just wasted another hour
talking
He pours more wine into her cup and together they watch
the sun come up
And then he says: “I’ll love you if you’ll let me”
And she says: “But, baby, you’ve only just met me!”
Touching, laughing, flirting, dreaming
But, inside, there’s a voice that’s screaming
No soup for you, no soup for you
No soup for you, no soup for you
No soup for you, no soup for you
No soup for you, no soup for you
He says: “Don’t wake up, but I have to be somewhere else
today”
And, still wearing make-up, she watches as he walks away
And, although he’s managed to enthral her, she already
knows that he will never call her
No soup for you, no soup for you
No soup for you, no soup for you
No soup for you, no soup for you
No soup for you, no soup for you