She had her pick
Of any of the many
Burnt-out, dried-up
Unrepentant degenerates
In the place
He stroked his poolstick
His hands were steady, he was ready
Didn't even look up
Thinking lecherous
While keeping a straight face
The room was small, the smoke was thick
She smiled slyly he nodded wisely
Champagne in a coffee cup
With an unusual reverence
And a hint of disgrace
They both knew how to turn a trick
They'd do plenty for a twenty
Without spilling a drop from the loving cup
Struggling for significance
Also rans in the human race
No comments:
Post a Comment