Fingers sliding across black satin
And the radio softly humming
Evening breeze rolls in and the sun is setting
Skies are red over Yokohama
Cigar smoke fills the room in silence
Like a ghost of sakura petals
And she's by the window, smiling
But her smile is as cold as metal
He re-fills his glass, fingers shaking
He will be hungover tomorrow
And as something between them is breaking
They both know the love story's over.