Trash Can Sinatras Thrupenny Years
That reminds me of the time I felt It's time for sin and catholic guilt Two years later to the day I had reason to confess With her hair a shining shade Of bus-conductress blonde Tales of music and movement Were told in grip and groan But to put these thoughts In songs like theirs Of the honest truth There'd be no trace Just lying out loud Meanwhile back here in wonderland A sorry sight with flowers in hand Pours his heart out till his thirst For college girls is satisfied Standing there with ego Proudly on tip-toe All the time I'm thinking Well, well, here we go Another perfect song of grief Brings the house down to its knees By dying out loud One more awful dancer Steptoe's son a song and dance of love When I think of soap operas And what makes them so popular The answer's posing in front of my eyes Here comes our hero in hand-me-downs Strutting to the strain of 'Send in the Clowns' Troops his true colours When no-one's around And his desk-top tales Are the best around but Putting pain to paper reads Like a lunge at fame and greed Just crying out loud
