Fresh coffee on the table, steam dancing through the air, Another quiet Sunday, without a single
care.
Outside the city wakes up, the lake reflects the sky, Inside another deck is waiting, for
someone brave to try.
Some came riding scooters, some walked through morning rain, Some have never played before,
some know every game.
But nobody is keeping score, of who arrived the best, Because every smiling face tonight,
already passed the test.
Take another sip, slow everything down, No need to hurry, the cards will still be here,
The coffee will stay warm, the conversations, will become the memory.
Slow down, slow down, one more coffee, one more hand, coffee and cards.
That's all we really need, good friends around the table, good people, taking the lead.
Coffee and cards, no pressure in the air, Just another Sunday, without a single care.
Coffee and cards, laughter filling every room, Funny how the smallest moments always seem to bloom.
Coffee and cards, laughter filling every room, Funny how the smallest moments always seem to bloom.
Someone brought homemade cookies, someone brought fresh fruit,
Someone says they're going vegan, everybody gives a salute.
The music starts to flow, nobody notices the time, The afternoon becomes an evening, without missing a line.
Stories from Canada, stories from Vietnam, Stories from around the world, finding where they belong.
Different languages, different roads, we've known, Funny how around one table, nobody feels alone.
Another refill, another shuffle, another laugh, another bluff,
Another stranger becomes a friend, another story finds its end, then starts again.
Fresh coffee, fresh cards, fresh memories, fresh start.
Coffee, cards, coffee, cards, coffee, cards, shuffle up.
Maybe you'll remember, the hand you almost won.
Maybe you'll remember, the joke that made everyone laugh.
Maybe you'll remember, watching the sunset, while holding terrible cards.
And somehow still feeling lucky, because sometimes the greatest luxury,
isn't money or winning, it's having nowhere else you'd rather be.
Coffee, coffee, coffee and cards.
The perfect Sunday plan, no casino lights required, no complicated plans.
Coffee and cards, just let the hours fly, good conversations under Dalek skies.
Coffee and cards, we'll deal another round, because every Sunday here, feels like home somehow.
The coffee cups grow empty, the deck grows tired, the chips return to little colourful towers.
Outside the evening breeze, carries the smell of pine trees and fresh coffee.
Someone quietly asks, same time next Sunday.
Nobody answers, they simply smile, because everyone already knows.
See you Sunday.
Coffee, cards, Dalek.
Coffee, cards, Dalek.