With one or two I get used to the room. We go slow when we first make our moves. 'Bout five or six, bring you out to the car. Number nine with my head on the bar. And its sad, but true, out of cash and I.O.Us. I got desperate desires and (unadmirable) plans. My tongue will taste of gin and malicious intent. Bring you back to the bar, get you out of
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