( written 1980, drum track 18/8/1983, everything else 2003 ~ 2:48 )
A fondly remembered haven of my college days, this steamy café was a refuge from bad digs, cold weather and reality in general. Its front window was made from two huge panes, and whoever painted the name across them hadn't reckoned with the glazing bar down the middle. We pronounced it the way it looked:

"THERUBYS || UPPERBAR"


Let's go down to the Ruby Supperbar, where the people eat row upon row.
We can watch the buses and motor-cars trying to avoid a collision.
We can stay at the Ruby Supperbar, peering through steamy window-panes.
Passers-by don't realise who we are: it's better than the television.

Espresso Coffee and a microwaved custard pie.
You can almost taste them if you try.
The Ruby Supperbar, pie in the sky.
The Ruby Supperbar, pie in the sky.


Lots to do at the Ruby Supperbar: play pinball in the afternoon.
You can write a tune on your old guitar, then maybe I'll give you some lyrics.
Coming out of the Ruby Supperbar, into the cold and the rain,
Like goldfish taken from a jar: having hysterics.

Espresso Coffee and a microwaved custard pie.
You can almost taste them if you try.
The Ruby Supperbar, pie in the sky.
The Ruby Supperbar, pie in the sky.  (rpt)