Closing Time (Live in London)

So we're drinking and we're dancing

And the band is really happening

And the Johnny Walker wisdom running high

And my very sweet companion

She's the Angel of Compassion

And she's rubbing half the world against her thigh

Every drinker every dancer

Lifts a happy face to thank her

The fiddler fiddles something so sublime

All the women tear their blouses off

The men they dance on the polka-dots

And it's partner found and partner lost

And it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops:

It's CLOSING TIME

Yeah the women tear their blouses off

And the men they dance on the polka-dots

And it's partner found, it's partner lost

And it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops:

It's CLOSING TIME

We're lonely, we're romantic

And the cider's laced with acid

And the Holy Spirit's crying, "Where's the beef?"

And the moon is swimming naked

And the summer night is fragrant

With a mighty expectation of relief

So we struggle and we stagger

Down the snakes and up the ladder

To the tower where the blessed hours chime

And I swear it happened just like this:

A sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss

The Gates of Love they budged an inch

I can't say much has happened since

But CLOSING TIME

I loved you for your beauty

But that doesn't make a fool of me:

You were in it for your beauty too

I loved you for your body

There's a voice that sounds like God to me

Declaring that your body's really you

I loved you when our love was blessed

And I love you now there's nothing left

But sorrow and a sense of overtime

And I missed you since the place got wrecked

By the winds of change and the weeds of sex

Looks like freedom but it feels like death

It's something in between, I guess

It's CLOSING TIME

We're drinking and we're dancing

But there's nothing really happening

The place is dead as Heaven on a Saturday night

And my very close companion

Gets me fumbling gets me laughing

She's a hundred but she's wearing

Something tight

I lift my glass to the Awful Truth

Which you can't reveal to the Ears of Youth

Except to say it isn't worth a dime

And the whole damn place goes crazy twice

And it's once for the Devil and it's once for Christ

But the Boss don't like these dizzy heights

We're busted in the blinding lights

Of CLOSING TIME