Wrinkled women and wrinkled wrockers.

I get all the ladies after five PM
They wanna hear some Bob, and be nineteen again
I get a lotta tail when the hands go half past six
They hum to Harvest Moon, and fall for all Neil’s tricks
But at seven fifty-five, I see tumble weeds a-blowin’
So I lock and key my door, to be alone with Leonard Cohen.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s