The jukebox
Has sputtered off, then it has fallen silent...
That old fan has finally given up;
The counter top
Has drank too much and it has fallen asleep...
The furniture is holding up somewhat...
The dirty stage yawns,
The spittoon has resigned
From its thankless job;
The strip-tease
Finished half an hour ago,
But a yokel is still asking for an encore!
A drunk sailor
Snores in C Minor,
Tired of dancing
A killer tango.
His tattoo, made in his mother's honour
With lots of love,
Cannot be properly seen:
It has lost its colours!
And the platinum blonde
Is still waiting, annoyed,
For him to make up his mind.
Her glance falls on his wallet:
There's more than just one way
To make money, in this life!
The manager awakens
From his pleasant half-sleep
Without having completely defeated
His mental fuzziness.
He moves zigzagging, checking around the tables
And says his usual goodbyes...
Hey, scum! You gotta bounce:
You better get going,
For it's past closing time!
For it's past closing time...!