There's an old man sitting next to me, making love to his tonic and gin.
Call you up in the middle of the night. It's awful hard trying to make love long distance, but I really need stimulation.
It's nine o'clock on a Saturday, the regular crowd shuffles in / There's an old man sitting next to me making love to his tonic and gin / He says, 'Son, can you play me a memory?/ I'm not really sure how it goes / But it's sad and it's sweet, and I knew it complete when I wore a younger man's clothes.'
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