Rainy Night Saloon

On the outskirts of reality, just the other side of town, there's a doorway to the stars up an alley, two steps down.

A juke box with a steering wheel plays a waltz as you get the feel of the place, your eyes connect your face to the

Rainy Day

Saloon. Out of the dark a drink appears, take a look around.

The walls are a colour you've never seen and, what's that sound?

An alligator in a pink tuxedo does a dance called the love torpedo.

Is it great?

Yes indeed-o, the

Rainy Night

Saloon. It's 23 hours northeast of

Rangoon, the

Rainy Night

Saloon. The bartender is the

Man in the

Moon, I really want to get back there soon.

No sign for the clientele, the regulars all know it well, every face has a story to tell at the

Rainy Night

Saloon. The bill of fare is extraordinaire, but careful what you say.

The walls are thin, you can hear a pin drop and the chef's funny that way.

So if you find a flea-collar in the soup de jour or a bandage in the salad you're you're a guest, be on your best behaviour in the

Rainy Night

Saloon. The health inspector came to shut it down, they found his car in another town, my, oh my, word gets around.

It's 23 hours northeast of

Rangoon, the

Rainy Night

Saloon. The bartender is the

Man in the

Moon, I really want to get back there soon.

No sign for the clientele, the regulars all know it well, every face has a story to tell at the

Rainy Night

Saloon. The head bouncer is two feet tall she wears wears a whistle ring.

If you misbehave she plays a note, a trap door opens, you don't feel a thing.

Once a month, maybe more, there's a bang and a scream from the cellar door.

Nobody asks what's under the floor of the

Rainy Night

Saloon. It's 23 hours northeast of

Rangoon, the

Rainy Night

Saloon. The bartender is the

Man in the

Moon, I really want to get back there soon.

No sign for the clientele, the regulars all know it well, every face has a story to tell at the

Rainy Night

Saloon.