Whiskey, sweet vermouth and bitters

It’s been too long my old

New York shitty

I used to listen to your walls moan

Before the sounds of planes over your busy

streets

Would bring back memories

Would make us all stop our daily deeds to think

Back than I’d wake up shaking in a bathtub

Sorry for lying and leaving someone else alone

again

Now I’m just an ugly old man

Alone on the edge of the tub thinking on dying as an end

There’s stale beer and Cuban food and

Artistic stuff I guess

Not sure what it’s all for. The women don’t see me

Anymore

Jacks took the the needle off the record and in the silence

Painted the walls with his brains

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