it's the cool of the evening the sun's goin' down, i want to hold you in my arms i want to push you around, i want to break your bottle and spill out all
You know the ladies I've been seeing off and on Well they spend your love and then they're gone
Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of rye Hush-a bye my baby, no need to be crying.
I rowed down the gutter to the Blood Bank and I'd left all my papers on the Ticonderoga and was in a bad need of a shave and so I slopped at the corner on cold chow mein
It was kind of an abandoned road, in a blurred brocade collage Is that a road motel, I can't really tell You gotta tell me, is that a vacancy lodge
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so let's climb up through that button hole, and we'll fall right up the stairs, and i'll show you where the short dogs grow, on the nickel over there.
without fear of contradiction bon voyage is always hollered in conjunction with a handkerchief from shore
theres a dark huddle at the bus stop unbrellas arranged in a sad bouquet Li'l cesar got caught he has going down to second
But the only place a man can breathe And collect his thoughts is Midnight and flyin' away on the road.
And I elbowed up at the counter with mixed feelings over mixed drinks As Bubba and the Roadmasters moaned in pool hall concentration and
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