| Ah 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
|
| She’s rubbing half the world against her thigh
|
| And every drinker every dancer
|
| Lifts a happy face to thank her
|
| The fiddler fiddles something so sublime
|
| All 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
|
| 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
|
| Ah 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 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, 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
|
| And I loved you for your body
|
| There’s a voice that sounds like God to me
|
| Declaring, declaring, declaring that your body’s really you
|
| And 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
|
| And I just don’t care what happens next
|
| Looks like freedom but it feels like death
|
| It’s something in between, I guess
|
| It’s closing time
|
| Yeah I missed you since our 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
|
| Yeah we’re drinking and we’re dancing
|
| But there’s nothing really happening
|
| And 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
|
| And 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
|
| 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
|
| Busted in the blinding lights
|
| Of closing time
|
| Oh the women tear their blouses off
|
| And the men they dance on the polka-dots
|
| It’s closing time
|
| And it’s partner found, it’s partner lost
|
| And it’s hell to pay when the fiddler stops
|
| It’s closing time
|
| I swear it happened just like this:
|
| A sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
|
| It’s closing time
|
| The Gates of Love they budged an inch
|
| I can’t say much has happened since
|
| But closing time
|
| I loved you when our love was blessed
|
| I love you now there’s nothing left
|
| But closing time
|
| I miss you since the place got wrecked
|
| By the winds of change and the weeds of sex
|
| It’s closing time |