Ian:
Don't you look so pretty in your Friday night dress?
Your fingernails all bitten and your hair a perfect mess
Mommy lights the candles, daddy says prayers over wine
Bread upon the table
Salt the bread, drink the wine
House full of laughter
So very different than mine
Daddy on the unemployment line
A late, drunken mess
Don't you look so pretty in your Friday night dress?
The whole of you, the soul of you, the sparkle of success
People are lucky, people are blind, people can't see what's in front of their eyes
Monica:
Like my house?
Ian:
Can I move in here?
Monica:
Sure, but I won't be here long
Ian:
Where ya going?
Monica:
Anywhere but here
Ian:
Here's as good as anywhere
Monica:
See you on Sunday
Temple Emanuel at three
Come a little early
Ian:
I'm never early for anything
Thanks for dinner, I liked the chopped liver
And the kosher wine was surprisingly fine
Monica:
Right
Ian:
Night
Didn't you look so pretty in your Friday night dress?
The dream of you will send me off to sleep tonight a perfect mess
Didn't you look so pretty?
Didn't you look so pretty?
In your Friday night dress