You go down to the pickup station,
craving warmth and beauty;
You settle for less than fascination --
a few drinks later you're not so choosy.
And the closing lights strip off the shadows
on this strange new flesh you've found --
Clutching the night to you like a fig leaf
you hurry to the blackness
and the blankets to lay down an impression
and your loneliness.
-- Joni Mitchell
