Sonny

Sonny started singing while he shuck the martini
I realized right then and there I wanted mine stirred.
They all had red jackets like those carnival monkeys playing the snare drums,
banging out cocktails for tips.

100 years and nothing much has changed I guess.
Flirting bartenders interrupting my intimate conversations about love and death.
Go away, I was just getting to the place where it all made sense
a new friendship with a twist, cold cool comfort on a hot day in LA.
 
Sonny got his tip.
Sonny is not getting another drink from me.
Time to find another hole I can crawl into
away from this song and dance routine
I’ll leave Sonny to sing for the tourist in their cheap walmart print t-shirts
I’ll leave Hollywood to entertain their illusions
I’ll leave the barstool to someone who wants their
martini shaken not stirred.