In Amsterdam

Hey, Bob, last night I had a dream
If Dan lived, he'd ask, "What was it?"
Or maybe he'd say nothing
Regardless, here's my dream

It was of my only father
Cross-legged, meditating
In a red-light district window
And um

Well, in my dream, I am in Amsterdam
My wife nor I know who I am

I turn to her
I tell her, "I won't be home for Shabbos
It's not that I don't love you
It's just that I hate Shabbos
With all its peace and quiet
And all its gentle prayer
I was not raised with quiet"
And then

She screams, "I know, goddamn, this is Amsterdam"
I scream, "Don't scream, I'm still a man"

"No, you are a coward," she says
And I know I am
I'm worse than my father, at least
He was good enough in the end

It's been two years since she left me
And three since Dan last died
The truth is I miss Shabbos
I miss what I should've tried
While I had an ex-wife's father
While I had broken bread
Now who will be my father?
Oh, Bob

In my heart, I am still in Amsterdam
My dad is dead and so is Dan

And I am a liar, it's true
And I know I am
I'm worse than my father, at least
He was good enough in the end (ah...)

Ah-ah
Ah, ah-ah...
Ah-ah-ah
Ah-ah-ah-ah...
He was good enough in the end