I'm the piano player down at Eddie's bar   And Rachel she's the waitress who wants to be a star   She swears she's gonna make it, make it big someday   And she'll send me picture postcards from L.A.      When it's time for closing, I play while Rachel cleans   She listens to my music, I listen to her dreams   She swears she's gonna make it, she's going all the way   And I say, "Send me picture postcards from L.A.      Send me postcards from L.A. signed with love forevermore   Picture postcards from L.A. to hang on my refrigerator door   Rachel, if you find me one, I'd love a picture of   The California sun      When Rachel shares my pillow she always asks me things   Like do I really think she's pretty, do I like the way she sings?   I don't know how to answer, so I always smile and say   I say, "Send me picture postcards from L.A.      Send me postcards from L.A. signed with love forevermore   Picture postcards from L.A. to hang on my refrigerator door   Rachel, if you find me one, I'd love a picture of   The California sun      Sometimes Rachel stands up in the middle of the bar   And does a scene from the late show   We all clap our hands as she puts her apron on   And says, "Next week, I'm gonna go"      She'll even buy a ticket and pack her things to leave   Though we all know the story, we pretend that we believe   But something always comes up, something always makes her stay   And still no picture postcards from L.A.      Send me postcards from L.A. signed with love forevermore   Picture postcards from L.A. to hang on my refrigerator door   Rachel, if you find me one, I'd love a picture of   The California sun      I'm the piano player down at Eddie's bar   And Rachel she's the waitress who wants to be a star