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Poem

Smoke Vegas

Ladies and Gentlemen

Hit it again Sam

Tickle that Ivory Joanna

Black velvet tuxedo suit

Tanned Brown Chesterfield Leather Booths
Polished studs out

Crooner poised spitting on the end of a Stainless Microphone

Either hand holding a smoking cigarette
And tumbler of Burbon Whiskey on the rocks

Dames in 1000 Dollar Frocks 
Drenched in Diamond's and furs
Mistresses not wife's

Straight City Life
Bright Light's
New York City
Big Apple
No Sleep

Room's upstairs
Illicit affairs
He who dares

Them were the day's
Manhattan to Vegas

Stranger's Broadway Night's
Hollywood Stars
Town Cars
Red Carpets

The Golden age of Song and Stage
Old Blue Eyes 
Frank Sinatra

Slow dancing with your Partner
Pressing up close and personal against her
Holding hands 
Wishing the music would never stop

Times were simpler way back then
When girls were young ladies
At had to be home by Ten
And Marriage proceeded having babies
And young men wore suits

How i yearn for the crackle of a needle on an old record player

But that was all our yesterday's
And as the story goes

Not this old story again Grandad
Move on those times are gone

Put a C.D on
And don't you know you are not allowed
To smoke indoors

You may survived and fought in World Wars
But we are the snowflake righteous generation
So far above our station

You just can't tell if am talking through
My mouth or my bum

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