I Know It's Pathetic but That Was the Greatest Night of My Life

It was backstage in Moscow, late one night
 We shared a cigarette and a kiss goodbye
 Her name was Cayenne, young and soft
 Her hands trembled badly, her eyes trailed off
 To bottles and objects around the room
 My backup guitar and a tray of food
 We didn't have very much to say
 She said that she'd come from some other place
 A town called Troitsk, maybe Trois
 Was pretty distracted, packing my stuff
 But I did make a point to ask her to stay
 But she said she had friends that she had to go see
 Later that summer, I picked up my mail
 She sent me a letter with a touching detail
 She used up her minutes calling hotels
 To find me that night but to no avail
 "I know it's pathetic," she continued to write
 "But that was the greatest night of my life."