Quiet Please - ,,, - How Are You, Pal

We used to be good friends.

Went around a lot.

Long and hard.

But we haven't seen much of each other the last few years, not to lie.

We came back here to town and called you up and said, hey, remember me? I remember how your voice sounded so odd.

Not quite the same, but I still sound familiar.

Did they tell you anything else about why you didn't want to talk to me? I don't know.

Quite a while ago.

I didn't think of it at the time, I remember now.

Not that I blame you, but that's a good New York manner to be in, sir.

Alan will raise Paul.

Sure, you're sure the old pal is going to put the arm on you to find a place to stay, and maybe lend him a tent or so.

I don't think so.

You were a little more cordial after I'd answered that question.

Asking for a taxi, what are you doing now, then? But I said, I was doing all right, son.

Couldn't I buy you dinner? Then we did come back pretty fast and say, no, no, dinner's on me.

And we had an argument about that.

And it just made sense.

It just made sense.

I don't know.

We had a lot of laughs at that dinner, talking about the fine business.

The strict presence we give to each other.

Some of the things.

Some of them we both like, and some of them are of a slightly set of differences.

And, uh, the copycat we gave each other, I suppose to say.