SANGRIA
                         First was Tony.  Tony's a jeweler. 
                         Now Tony has dozens of people to
                         set the stones and manage the
                         sales, but he's still good with a
                         Swiss movement.  I returned some of
                         the diamonds, but I kept the
                         Ferrari.  I like red things.  Next
                         was Giancarlo.  Giancarlo was a
                         musician; he had the hands of a
                         musician.  His body had seen only
                         seventeen summers, but I assure you
                         that his soul was much, much older. 
                         He sang candy-store teenage love
                         songs to me, told me that I made
                         him strong.  They found him in
                         Tokyo last month, a guitar pick in
                         his left hand and a needle in his
                         right.  The doctors say that, since
                         then, he has only spoken one word,
                         over and over... My name.  Now. 
                         Have I got a deal for you.  Put
                         down that vodka, take these keys,
                         and bring my Ferrari around to the
                         front of the bar.  In exchange,
                         tonight I'll make you believe that
                         you're the only man I've ever had.