In the restaurant I cringe
and my ribeye rare grows colder
when the waiters sing that song
to a diner one year older.
Yet I tingle to remember
how the sultry Marilyn
sang the same to John Fitzgerald
making every word a sin.
In the restaurant I cringe
and my ribeye rare grows colder
when the waiters sing that song
to a diner one year older.
Yet I tingle to remember
how the sultry Marilyn
sang the same to John Fitzgerald
making every word a sin.
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