I'm sipping a mixed drink of similies under a L.A. Summer Setting sky.
Tired as the television says I am, never once did I blink before this.
Now I'm shaking in my sandals,hoping that the laughter's not aimed at me.
Guess I didn't take enough time at home to calculate the "two parts vodka" risk.

It's always smiles though, with each Las Vegas chip.
Painful lost causes for thumping wrists to pound out a new song.
I'm growing nauseous of the swim wear, I'm getting tired of the game.
Never thought the way you'd win is by addmitting you were wrong.

When "Running out of room? You can always post short term..." is the story of your life,
It's hard to get the second chance, last call was much to soon.
And when your story is as entertaining as the paid programs you've been holding,
"Goodnight" would seem appropriate. Strained over ice, with a splash of vermouth.

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