"Do Angels Need Haircuts?" lyrics
There isn't much time, he thought, looking around the bar, dark, only half an hour, you could be the most beautiful boy in the world and no one would ever notice you in here. He held his stomach in, sorry he'd eaten and reflected in the mirror, and oh he was beautiful tonight, not perhaps attracting the attention of the smooth-faced sixteen-year-old but yes he still had that look, an angel. It was all in the hair, he decided. Do angels get haircuts? Does hair grow in heaven?
There was nobody prettier in the bar and only fifteen minutes left. How extraordinary to be so young, Then the boy at his side, or rather the boy older than he, said, "You're an adorable Greek god." That's nice, he thought, and true, looking at the speaker, a now old once young bot. (But he had never been beautiful.) Standing by the bar sipping beer, hands on his big-buckled belt while the faggots in bell-bottoms preened in the old days, he thought, I would have drinks by thousands sent to me, they were all too shy to even speak! Great satisfaction to a young man's vanity when dealing in dark night sex. And you could see what you were buying,
Later walking down the street to the after-hours club the much older boy said to the Greek god:
Yes, I remember that bar it was, oh ma god, six (SIX!) years ago. I thought there was nothing like it in the whole forsaken earth (I am/was quite religious, child) but now that I think on it. It was so clear in my mind, I think it was because I was young and coming out and everything was so fresh, including me, but it wasn't so great or different than now I don't think.
You really think so? he asked, slightly bewildered. He had thought, experience had shown, that the old, only so slightly older times were indeed better.
At the after-hours club, he teased and drank, but no, not depressed, just down, the hours after all, and finally left, it was raining, pouring, and endlessly lucky (his good looks still!) got the only empty cab on 14th Street. When he walked into the apartment he woke her. Maybe I should be married, he though, suddenly, very, very, very scared. And she sat up in bed looking very much the painting, an angel framed by dark hair loose failing and said, "You're wet." Don't fall over the TV set she thought
Well, we all know why we're here, he said
You bet, she said, flicking on the TV so she could have some light. Just the tiniest flicker of light, so she could see what she was doing as she very slowly and very carefully made love to him.
There was nobody prettier in the bar and only fifteen minutes left. How extraordinary to be so young, Then the boy at his side, or rather the boy older than he, said, "You're an adorable Greek god." That's nice, he thought, and true, looking at the speaker, a now old once young bot. (But he had never been beautiful.) Standing by the bar sipping beer, hands on his big-buckled belt while the faggots in bell-bottoms preened in the old days, he thought, I would have drinks by thousands sent to me, they were all too shy to even speak! Great satisfaction to a young man's vanity when dealing in dark night sex. And you could see what you were buying,
Later walking down the street to the after-hours club the much older boy said to the Greek god:
Yes, I remember that bar it was, oh ma god, six (SIX!) years ago. I thought there was nothing like it in the whole forsaken earth (I am/was quite religious, child) but now that I think on it. It was so clear in my mind, I think it was because I was young and coming out and everything was so fresh, including me, but it wasn't so great or different than now I don't think.
You really think so? he asked, slightly bewildered. He had thought, experience had shown, that the old, only so slightly older times were indeed better.
At the after-hours club, he teased and drank, but no, not depressed, just down, the hours after all, and finally left, it was raining, pouring, and endlessly lucky (his good looks still!) got the only empty cab on 14th Street. When he walked into the apartment he woke her. Maybe I should be married, he though, suddenly, very, very, very scared. And she sat up in bed looking very much the painting, an angel framed by dark hair loose failing and said, "You're wet." Don't fall over the TV set she thought
Well, we all know why we're here, he said
You bet, she said, flicking on the TV so she could have some light. Just the tiniest flicker of light, so she could see what she was doing as she very slowly and very carefully made love to him.
