All About the Night Time
Grab your slick nylon shoes. You know the ones. Black with a white nose. Shiny with little holes to breath. And visible stitching. Don’t forget the visible stitching. The night’s young. Fresh. Summer music. Summer night music.
So let’s go. Throw on your white shirt and red suspenders. Slick your hair back and grab that cute little girl next door and set for downtown. Park the 59′ Thunderbird. The red one. With white upholstery. Hit the bars. All of them. Get a nice buzz working. It’s a good drunk. A summer night’s drunk. Pop a cigarette in your mouth. Light it fast. Grab that girl’s soft silky hand. Dance. Dance you bastard. Like everyone is watching and you want them to see what fun is. Twist. Twirl. Bop. Shout. Have a good time. The best time. On the streets. Do it all on the streets. This is it. What the King spoke about. What you say in all them moving pictures. The Sonics. Knowing that the night time. Is the fucking right time.