I'm the piano player, down at Eddies' barAnd Rachel she's the waitress who want to be a starShe swears she's gonna make it, make it big somedayAnd she'll send me picture postcards from L.A.When it's time for closing I play while Rachel cleansShe listens to my music, I listen to her dreamsShe sewars she's gonna make it, she's going all the wayAnd I say, send me picture postcards from L.A. Send me postcards from L.A. signed with love forevermorePicture postcards from L.A. to hang on my refrigerator doorRachel, if you find me one, I'd love a picture of the California sunWhen Rachel shares my pillow she always asks me thingsLike 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 sayI say, send me picture postcards from L.A. Send me postcards from L.A. signed with love forevermorePicture postcards from L.A. to hang on my refrigerator doorRachel, if you find me one, I'd love a picture of the California sunSometimes Rachel stands up in the middle of the barAnd does a scene from the late showWe all clap our hands as she puts her apron onAnd says next week, I'm gonna goShe'll even buy a ticket and pack her things to leaveThough we all know the story we pretend that we believeBut something always comes up, something always makes her stayAnd still no picture postcards from L.A.Send me postcards from L.A. signed with love forevermorePicture postcards from L.A. to hang on my refrigerator doorRachel, if you find me one, I'd love a picture of the California sunI'm the piano player down at Eddie's barAnd Rachel she's the waitress who wants to be a star