Raindrops are like piano keys,
Both beat and pound the night away,
In a city full of neon lights,
It's funny how you miss the gray.
Tied wrist to wrist by copper wires,
And *****-tonk daydreams of the night,
Poetry is promiscuous,
But only if you do it right.
Up on stage, your seat lies bare,
Where'd you go my vagabond vamp?
Million dollar babies with their red hot cars,
And all I really want is a dustbin *****.
— The End —