There’s an old man,
Sitting at the bar,
Crumpled up on a barstool.
He turns to you,
More full of drink,
Than motivation,
And hands you his card.
“Penny for your thoughts?”,
He asks with a crooked smile.
You find that your head is empty.
There’s an old man,
Sitting at the bar,
Crumpled up on a barstool.
He turns to you,
More full of drink,
Than motivation,
And hands you his card.
“Penny for your thoughts?”,
He asks with a crooked smile.
You find that your head is empty.
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