When I'm bored I crank out the nocturnal blues

My beard is casually stroked 

I listen to her as if 

she were talking directly into 

my ear. 

I lean forward and contact 

her eyes, and to 

my surprise

 she leans forward and says 

"I bet that's what you say to all the pretty guys." 

Our coats hanging up in the living room hall, 

we discuss some world issues and all in all 

I find that she's rather uninteresting. 

I lean back towards earth and 

she leans to the moon, she says something like 

"They're expecting me soon." This gay rendezvous is most likely a sham, but 

my ten gallon hat replies "Good evening then, Ma'am" Collecting 

our coats as we walk to the door, 

she stops and she mutters "Never more, you dirty w***e." 

I get to my car at a quarter to one, but 

I find that the window is undone, 

and 

there's no steering wheel. 

I call for a cab, but 

she's already savvy and 

she meanders to 

my aid in the night. When 

I reach out to 

greet 

her, 

I meet her, and beat her, 

and arrive home at a quarter to five. 

Up to my room, in such a hurry, 

I take off my shirt and my shoes.

I lay on my bed, 

and pretend that I'm dead, 

as I crank out some nocturnal blues.

And by "crank out some nocturnal blues" I mean "masturbate furiously."