Heels higher than her blood-alcohol level Gaze further than the years between herself And a man across the bar without a name Let the tabs roll up With his satin blue sleeves Friday's pay checks wasted Spent like the law clerks in the red leather corner booth Cigar smoke coats the curls around her ears, Camouflages itself in the shadows upon his aging hairline Her shawl is coated with sequins and musk And his hands beg to add a third layer The paler man beside him marries thick glass to wood He slurs out round five The air tastes like ***** and vanilla ice cream Her ruby lips the cherry on top The hangover hits harder When his head hits the pillow His cloudy azure eyes open And the daydream mistress becomes a fog
Old bars and ****** lawyers are so lustfully timeless.