Lounge

He don't remember, how it got there

It had a number, written on his forearm

It spelled disaster

All hoping, all hoping for dancing

He was looking, and looking stunning

His clothes reflected light, all right

She sat, she sat in the backseat

The car was plush but had no heat

And no not no one was blushing

Their technique was so damn right

All right, and!

He read the note in the black light

He thought he read minds and was not right

That line still made him seem charming

His clothes were shining, shining


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